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urb - jpegmafia & freaky lyrics

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[intro: jpegmafia]
one two, one two, uh
one two, one two, uh
one two, one two
p-ssy
p-ssy boy
one two, one two, uh
one two, one two, uh
one two, one two, uh

[verse 1: jpegmafia]
nasty with this wrist, i got no compet-tion
great at talking sh-t like i’m politician
nationwide ain’t on your side i’m unforgiving
i make ’em pay for all these hits like they ain’t got collision (get over here)
sssniperwolf i hit these copy’s with precision
peter bucking n-ggas ’til they find this new religion
i’m that black man that made daughter hate tradition
she bought me magnums then i tag her with some new positions
i got no head on me
n-ggas ain’t ain’t ahead of me
hit your wifey doggystyle
my special move the pedigree
i’m stone cold with this recipe
i cook these n-ggas breakfast, b
llama like spit like tempa t
how dare these n-ggas step to me
f-ck them cause they not my team
h-lla dollars no receipts
all that cake up on her face
like d-mn maybe its mayballine
all this talk about my race
i brush that sh-t off gracefully
short stroking n-ggas from the burbs got so much hate for me (finish him)
first you was a rapper then you was trapper
then you was punk kid
i guess you just an actor
n-ggas getting mixed up in some sh-t they never mastered
i don’t give a f-ck mo or your gramma
scr-pers tryna buck
they getting dragged by they antlers
i ain’t talking labor
when i say i got the hammer
(reversed) saying that he’s knows me
not true
the papers said i can’t hit (bleep) n-gga, not you
n-ggas want war but filing orders for peace (beep)
i’m running with the squad
while you run to police (beep)
acting out on twitter just gon’ get you deceased (beep)
while i smoke your daddy’s ashes
out my fasfa receipts (n-gga)

[verse 2: freaky]
on the mic
make you think twice
on stage you think it’s a magic mic
way i take layers off
i’m from where the moon and water came from
build relations to the sun
wake up smell the concrete when the rains done
hungry but i need ganja before bacon
give my girl that brown sugar
i’m sanaa lathan (finish him)
i got sh-t say, nathan
just know that style is ancient
wise men told me
never get your hopes up for pitchfork
i make sure to scratch and sniff my -ss around rich folk
separate the white from the egg yolk
kush and orange juice over french toast
been a goat
10 4
down the rabbit hole with draino
if you ain’t know
on the mic most you no bueno
i been spittin’ pukin’ on myself since a day one
chewing on my favorite color crayon
free desean
“prepare to die”

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