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misty sunday - keneddythedon lyrics

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[intro]
i love this lifestyle too much to give it up
when you gifted, you gotta let the world know
‘cause, see, i heard somewhere there’s a difference between talents and gifts
anyone can learn sk!lls and get talented
but, gifts are given at birth
recognize this

[verse 1]
i turn the corner
the distinct fragrance of marijuana is peepin’ in my window
d-mn, i want some indo
blaze it up, and watch the exhaust alter your thoughts like innuendoes
bring me that sentimental – back when i used to play with nintendos
i had no reason to make rappers cease to exist with pencils
rigor mortis makes it official
mortuary filled up to the brim, your future’s looking dim
look at him, he died on the spot when he thought that he could rock the mic
and now, he’s rocking the poltergeist disguise
n-gga done lost his life tryna compete with a god mc
appease the god, get down on your knees
as a matter a fact, get ready for sunday service
the churches are ready, so take a seat in your he-rs-
the only perk of percs is that i catch rappers slippin’ – get merc’d
end up on a shirt when i skrrrt the corner, pull out the “brrrt” and dash
all you got to show for it is cash; did you make a fortune?
most n-ggas where i’m from make it from full-blooded extortion
and moving paraphernalia, i’m sure that your parents tell ya to stay in school
obey the rules, because the streets will fail ya

[verse 2]
i push the weight when i push these tapes full of toxin
lethal injection if you choose to play the record
you got overdose moxy
keep the box playing, ‘cause i am the reaper, i keep on slayin’
i’m laying heat to the wax and i’m laying rappers on backs, no cap
you got lackadaisical, don’t complain when i p-ss
i’m causing static and chaos every chance that i get
i mastered the art k!lling off peons for eons and generations
sing my tribulations, i love the heat
i love to k!ll off the peace
i love to feed off these beats
i’m bloodthirsty, don’t look weak
so, you stupid if you cause beef
i’m far vegetarian
m-ss hysteria when i spit back
i just pull out the ruger, aim it at you, then that “cl!ck-clack” is all you heard
you lifeless from the verbiage
personal attacks don’t mean nothing if you waste wax
i’m an mc of a different galaxy, you can’t top that
a caliber that’s unapproachable, i can sneeze a body bag
the toe-tag action is real if you lookin’ for it
i leave coroners in disarray – this poetry is horror
gruesome at best, but eloquent when properly distinguished
i terminate hopes and souls of the foes who come at me rather fiendish

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