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it's alright with me - spose & cam groves lyrics

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i’m the cold wind shuttering imposter rap
marijauna, had lots of that
skinny, but my blunts are fat
the wells maine rap god is back
and got it locked like a lobster trap
it’s the s to the p-o-s-e
so broke can’t afford no jet ski (nope)
mix jack daniels with pepsi
’til you think my b-lls are s-xy

stir it up
stir it up
pack it up
burn it up
that’s alright with me
wells, maine baby
that’s alright with me
f-4 baby
that’s alright with me

in 1997, the best rapper past away
now there isn’t much shaking but c-ssius clay
and michael j, raps permanently f-cked up
like tyson’s face
i’m here to isolate
the wound from the state
with the loon from the license plate
the rhymes been dope, they’re twice as great
wells, maine life plain boring, nice, and g-y
rap in this place don’t mix like mice and apes
well rice ain’t great but we work a lot
then blow paychecks on purple pot
a loupole brings tear drops sinimally cops
middle finger to the law me and my circle rock, like chris
you never heard a hit rock like this
i’m from the era where the worms bite fish
like b-tt s-x i got tight sh-t
i’m drinking sygrum’s gin it’s mike mixed
black belt kung fu mike gripped
if the etnies untied i might slip
but otherwise im better than these other guys
who spit fibs and retrack tracks just to cover lies
i got my mother’s eyes, and my father’s brain
blowing reefer out of a regal in the state of maine
if i rapped as much as i jerked off i’d have a pimped out lexus with triple exhaust (food stamp!)
hangovers, morning grunts
stained clothes, endless blunts
4 a.m., i’m puking chunks
that’s why this album took me ten months
if you hate my sh-t it’s alright with me
you’re just mad i made records while you wasted weeks
although your ears still thank me graciously
although i don’t move bricks like masonry
wells, maine remains the place to be
for real life rap you can ask me or cam g
they say life’s slow here but i can’t leave
i wrote this and it ended up in my room like brandy
honest is something these rappers can’t be
candle apple lip balm on my t-i-p
really though, who’s dope besides me
besides these guys, besides me?
i hope your fingers get hiv
from an iv caped with leprosy
i dont mean to be mean or obscene
but my dream is to gleam on the scene
getting tress like rocheeps kareem
in the drive sippin’ jim bean
leaving s-m-n on the jean
somethin’ 17 magazine lookin’ -ss woman
name is spose baby, got it written on the stomach!

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