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flying to the moon - sonnyjim lyrics

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[verse 1]
if this is armageddon im a don i never put a f-cking foot wrong
i step into a cypher spot the shook ones
i was born on doomsday left alone for a few days
now i got it covered like the mask on mf doom’s face
we grew up in them neighborhoods where crack’s sold cocaine is cooked
i’m from edgbaston, kings heath and ladywood
it’s all real p-ssy what part you think we’re making up?
come to birmingham and take a look we never fake the funk
we ten deep in the lab, kela got the beats that crack
they call me sonnyjim i’m old school like betamax
i got it locked like accounts in swiss geneva banks
i travelled cross the country champion hoodie is my sleeping bag
weather its brooklyn or birmz, hook or a verse i put in the work
pray to god it gets the push it deserves
i played with fire son i could have got burned
would have made the same mistake twice f-ck it i still wouldn’t have learned
i got one foot in the grave and one foot in the dirt
my cuz l!cked one breh with a bottle and he’s looking at bird
his moms is tellin me the news and him lookin at her
like f-ck it; it could have been worse
my ends are crazy on a day to day basis im faced with facist racists
who dont disguise their hatred for blacks and asians
still im waiting for the day that i get famous
no airs and graces i throw a curve ball in your equation

[hook 1]
million dollar kelakovski is flying to the moon
the human hard drive is flying to the moon
the bearded wonda is flying to the moon
eatgood amb-ssador is flying to the moon
my boy eibilon is flying to the moon
billy brimstone’s flying to the moon
jabba the kut is flying to the moon
my names sonnyjim and im flying to the moon

[verse 2]
don’t mistake me for no famous rapper
cos round here famous rappers get boxed in the face and robbed for their chain
what happened to working hard?
the media says to be a legitimate rapper you need to be on a murder charge
spit venom boy the poisons deadly
one word and watch your boy get burried get his head squashed like a boysenberry
banging on a steel drum
when i spit my rhyming sounds like im firing rounds from a sub machine gun
i’m back with that hardcore rap sh-t, that smoke the whole bag sh-t
“these rappers keep bitin like bull mastiffs!”
you get your wiggy pulled backwards
i released an indie cl-ssic i’m free to roam on different tangents
i break a backwood, empty out a bag of cheese
i’m back with my blackberry hennessy and tobacco leaf
the braggadocious, im back off my magnum opus
the crowning moment, adventures of a c-ssanova
she fly to the moon and back, make me feel like superman
and i’m a feind for coming back like a boomerang
we up close and personal, i don’t rehe-rs- at all
i work this broad burning draws with the curtains drawn
mind your beezewax, i work with whom i like im strictly freelance
im in a foreign country selling weed bags, 30 euros 3 grams
whistling the theives theme
i long for a short break, a sea breeze a clean beach
imaginations limitless, im not limited to cirriculum
homie im firing on all cylinders
i let my mind wonder free, suddenly it comes to me
im still hungry and these rappers are looking like lunch to me
this industry is not what its used to be
if i released my record ten years ago these nerds would have been glued to me
instead my fanbase is made up of rappers in the same d-mn rat race pressing ad campaigns
depressing but we roll heavy handed, and bury ten a penny rappers like old geriatrics
you fools got your yoots acting stupid
i’m trying to make my money back off music
i gotta to put my back into it

[cuts to fade]

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