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dead or alive - sxmpra & sinizter lyrics

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[verse 1: sxmpra]
i am the one
i am that mothaf*cka when i’m spittin i do it for fun
i don’t want funds
f*ck all the drugs
p*ssies be running away from they problems i face to the front
b*tch i never miss
try not to f*ck with the clique
tasting the blood on my lips when i spit
i’m out here schemin
feel like a demon
grippin the blade in my fist
i don’t really wanna put a slit in my wrist
but think if i did
the mothaf*ckas jump on my sh*t
they f*ckin with it
i think i’d be next big thing
imma give em a twist
underground warrior
stuck in dysphoria
stallin my hope for the
future
i shoot for the stars
and my bullet go far
but i can’t seem to follow
the hollow
tomorrow
i wallow
in sorrow
i can’t seem to swallow
the fact that i might just be rotten
i might just like what i’ve gotten
i like this knife in my pocket
f*ckin with me and you in the coffin
aye
p*ssy mothaf*ckas wanna make it to fame
they f*ckin with lames
i never wanna be the one to do the same thangs
as the fakes so
evade the games
it’s schema the pose to the grave
eliminate
every mothaf*cka f*ckin with the posse
takin pot shots
with a sawed off
ain’t god d*mn shots be connecting with the body imma be the one to rock it till i’m poppin i’mma never stop
[verse 2: sinizter]
jump off the porch i’m goin’ head first
grip on the steel i’m dumpin’ lead first
boutta to ‘eat you alive’ just like i’m fred durst
vampire like cullen i got the bloodthirst

flow is telekinetic call me professor x
chasin’ the bag you know i need the check
when i whip out the choppa you betta hit the deck
think i’m losin’ my mind i go virginia tech

i’m losin’ faith lately
but they can’t break me
i’m stressin’ out daily
homicide maybe

always told ‘real recognize real’
guess that mean all y’all fake
always told ‘real recognize real’
guess that mean all y’all fake

yeah b*tch you do this for clout and i got the passion
i be makin’ a statement not talkin’ fashion
live and die by the creed b*tch i’m assassin
i keep a pump in the trunk if you want the action
post*traumatic disorder, i have a flashback
and if catch you it’s on, and you gettin’ b*tch slapped
know you know that i’m petty i gotta clap back
six feet in the grave and you take a dirt nap

i’m losin’ faith lately
but they can’t break me
i’m stressin’ out daily
homicide maybe

i’m losin’ faith lately
but they can’t break me
i’m stressin’ out daily
homicide maybe

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