Spit in the wind

Feeble awaken
Hands on her face and
Praying to god I wake up the next day when
Testing my morals and what I'm ok with
She likes when I rap in similar cadence
You with your clique and I'm with myself
You handing favors I don't need no help
Committing a crime by killing this microphone
Sleeping on me while OD'ing on Tylenol
Over compressing is something y'all kinda do
I prefer coffee and sucking on lozenges
609 With a 6 foot ego
5'8 Born with Napoleon syndrome
Been out the house hell nah bitch been home
There is a thug with a gun up in your window
Handing out disses like raffles at stadium
Fuck with this bullet right into your cranium
Mumbling da,da,da that's what a baby does
Half of my talent is so non attainable

Death is creeping over like it's spit in the wind
Chilling In the cut while I'm sipping on this Gin
Death is creeping over like it's spit in the wind
Chilling In the cut while I'm sipping on this, sipping on this



Credits
Writer(s): Jose Ramirez
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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