Crispin Cleen

Yuh
Yeah, yuh
Yeahh, yuhh
Yuh

Red sweater fitted on my chest
Dog chain wrapped around my neck
People complimenting my aesthetics
Cuz they like the curls sitting on my head
Now I'm fresh to death, like the corpse of Prince
I'm a big fan, I mean no offense
I'm a real charming motherfucker
I could steal your girl like I know a fence

You cannot fit in my shoes
As an outlaw, I plot and I move
See I know a couple niggas from my hometown
Who been eager to shoot
Keep away from me acting a fool
Gimme space, we will never be cool
You are not on my level
A literal genius compared to an ignorant tool, nigga, what's up?

Poetry flowing since sideways infinity
Show me support or I deem you an enemy
Music industry eclipsed by my energy
I'm twice the monster these niggas pretend to be, yeah
Bitch, I hang with Comedians
None of these clowns are offending me
Top of my game, "E.C.B" the initials
And keep a dagger in case player two send for me

Haha, yeahh
Music got me in the zone, boy
Plus I do it all from home, wow
Promoters blowing up my phone, damn
Aye
And you got to be comatose if you ain't heard of me yet
The underworld's greatest, you cannot contest
The only rookie to start out as a vet, bet



Credits
Writer(s): Elijah Gaines
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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