Alone

Get the fuck up outta my house
Put the fires out
Get the 9s out
Rhymes out, to your dome
Brrrr
Blow your mind out

Rick James
Nigga what the fuck?
That was my couch

Everybody stepping on it
Like they own the shit
Did the work to learn the routine

Stop lying to the team

Young nigga killa b
Taking every shot
No vaccines

Every track is a laxative

Keep your head above the waves
Nother 20 hours in a psychopathic daze
Had to make a way

On the grind
How much? Man, all the time
I ain't playin round, had a slow start
I ain't playing ketchup
But the mayo coming
If the bacon 'round
I ain't saying shit

Niggas talkin louder than a plane base
But I'm spraying glade
You remain shit

So I'm never fucking with the fakes
You can demonstrate
Put you on display
Nigga

Always showing 30 minutes late
When you day shift

I be on that waking 30 minute fore my fuckin clock
Every fuckin day
You are a disgrace

And my mama taught me, nigga
Have self worth
Man all these niggas vultures
Leave you in the desert
Better put yourself first

"Still a Real nigga, cold world
Pocket full of bud
Bird of prey, won't you show me love?"

It's just another way you want to make a nigga feel alone

Kakarot with 50,000 hours in training
David blaine and prestidigitation
Crystal waves
And better days
And take vacation
Compensation
Formulation
No formation
Pay the station
Paper wavors
Paper places
Never lazy
Plan the dates
A nation waits
Amazing grace
In savored places

Til the beat is erogenous
Beating them, beat em up
Feast on the sonic
And creamate em

Menial
Meat on the barbecue
Leave em starving in a pit
With their molecules
Stitched

Garbage is pitched in the coffin
With nothing but piss in the stocking
And peeling the lid off of
Models and bottles
And models
Be always on top of me
Get the fuck off of me

Given Sodomy
A feeble luncheon
You the alpha male
I guess I'm going hunting
Lost a couple hunnids

In a sunken
Rummaging through honey
Bunches like I wanted money
And i didnt punch in

Loving money but I need to touch it
ME and my niggas be in the function
That boy loud as a bag of funyuns
Ytb the king, no discussion
Bitches strippin like the summer coming
Running from the brotha
Like he choppin onions
Know he run It
Man he really something
Clean house nigga
Pass sponges
Roast toes
Nigga wash bunions
Rather not fuck with
Smoking chrona Arizona
Down by the boulevard

Group or more power to ya

Loosening chains
Ain't freeing these new slaves
But working at it's a learning habit

It's just another way you want to make a nigga feel alone



Credits
Writer(s): Steven R. Dubin, Ivan Matias, Andrea Monica Martin
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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