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what economy - sa lyrics

[verse 1]
left over, some best vocals
to let them off of my head
i’m on my metamorphosis to best
i focus like i’m threading a needle with my rhymes
i’m peeing with precise aim from the heights
it’s hitting the water closet
you picking the fight and you losing
you thinking you pirate class
you think you got the pyroclastic flow
you need a private class from me
you just a fiberglass without a core
or pore to sweat

you say coldest, with a flow full of holes loaded
you got them hoes all over the scene
you see profit in flex
you five foot or less
you sound midget wanna grow no offеnse
i sound like the f*word insidе your fence
that’s fear or family; you can decide what i’m in
i say you leave me to myself and my family
and let me write my songs
i’m not harm, i’m defense

[chorus]
what economy?
i don’t know sh*t about sh*t
but i’m not for sale
you call it criminal offense, but
i’m about to say what i want
what economy?
i don’t know sh*t about sh*t
but i’m not for sale
you call it criminal offense, but
i’m about to say what i want

[verse 2]
step over a bit more closer forward
trips over, you bit my toe to forehead
i trip over your testing kit for covid
it’s all over, even replicas are on, and
p*ssed off as i grudge to pay for all this
blissed out, i can’t rest too much to write in
messiah can’t sit and see the rioting
he might come down anyhow, we’ll find him

oh! maybe no shake hand with ladies
they ask me if i’m straight, 180
my baby knows, my state is lost
my cape or ball, it is on top your bowel
my capabilities, they come from above
my paper for thesis, they never can bore
might pay for these speakers, but cannot afford
my crave for these eateries leaking me
i’m on d*i*e*t
[chorus]
what economy?
i don’t know sh*t about sh*t
but i’m not for sale
you call it criminal offense, but
i’m about to say what i want

what economy?
i don’t know sh*t about sh*t
but i’m not for sale
you call it criminal offense, but
i’m about to say what i want

[verse 3]
myths over the facts? you sober?
i got doubts on you man
now i call myself soba, son of barbaric aid
with my lyrics you know that
i’m a graffiti drawn with
a half*litre bucket full of talent
you lucky little brat, you still lacking
you lachrymating, waiting for protagonist with napkins
you tapping out insane
you packing simultaneously
time to time, you ditched me
i think it’s time to kiss me goodbye
i ain’t leaving, you are, believe me
you wanted, you have it
your hustle was nothing
you cussing for not having
a car or four meals
my hustle was walking all the way
had no wheels, no means, nothing!
still my pen moves up and down
till i drown, i spit facts
if cover was game, you’re bikini
i’m purdah, sit back boy!

[chorus]
what economy?
i don’t know sh*t about sh*t
but i’m not for sale
you call it criminal offense, but
i’m about to say what i want

what economy?
i don’t know sh*t about sh*t
but i’m not for sale
you call it criminal offense, but
i’m about to say what i want

- sa lyrics

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