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drive slow - ed.milladelphia lyrics

hook: they tell me drive slow but i’d rather drive faster, they tell me stop smoking but i’d rather die faster than slowly. come correct when you approach me or end gone in the wind like the gun smoke (2x’s)

verse 1: gun smoke (3x’s) he totes and chokes then from his lungs and throat emerge a urge to just rip a instrumental rip a individual to shreds and pieces. i’ma puzzle with some pieces missing -ssembly required, i’m sorry if i slack i’m tired i’m only human a little evolution with a revolutionary soldier salute with his rifle to head mocking the fakers imitations suicide. but against all odds i’mma get even, there’s a crack in the door so i ease in oh my god, lord, jesus, mary, and moses bless my soul with a dozen roses. i’m the one like red pill blue pill i pop both of them b-tches, life’s a b-tch and deaths a wh0r- f-ck both of them b-tches and if you want war you can see more sh-lls than down by the sea sh0r- and i’m sure philly got the highest murder rate so stop talking that dumb sh-t before you end up another statistic cause i play with them biscuits so on site you can get the biz quick but enough of that chapter two page two verse one check two my flow crazy. i be drawlin’ with the pen and pad like blues clues, i’m raw dog and life’s like a game of rough you make it you take that. i got the ville… poppin’ g’s steady rockin’ jeans steady rockin’ with a glock out you ain’t got courage so f-ck what the lying bout, i spit straight sharp sh-t call me piranha bite. i’m really illy of that get silly eyes and your shoulders drop… ain’t no never, no probably’s, or probably not’s-

verse 2: me, myself, and millie… we really hot i go hard like cement man to man defense… when we balling shot calling ya’ll falling, i mean failing get like me and get a disease… that miley cyrus virus. or you can kilt like you f-cking with the irish i’m f-cking with that irish colored green, the sh-t in the head i’m the sh-t in my dreams… and i ain’t even what i seem… kanye dark fantasy that’s twisted… but don’t get it twisted like metal i’mma little f-cked up in the head but don’t get it f-cked up cause i’ll leave you f-cked up. it seems alotta n-ggas care what i say and what i do, i bless sh-t like achoo i’m at chu necks and throats like adams apples it ain’t sh-t for me to throw a diss track at you i be snapping like the adams family so i keep my family close and my enemies closer like right by the toaster these -ss backwards rappers lyrically can never be close to me i’m chilling on the top right where i’m supposed to be. on top of my sh-t not walking on that tight wire. my shots ring like a type writer i’m that j-r type writer get my money then i dipset i’m making sh-t yet, sold all this hard and pills and gank and still ain’t amount to sh-t yet still gon prove the world wrong f-ck’em my life ain’t done yet… done yet-

- ed milladelphia lyrics

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