Magic
(Magic, Magic, Magic, Made)
(Magic, Magic, Magic, Made)
(Magic, Magic, Magic, Made)
(Magic, Magic, Magic, Made)
One strange demeanor quiet with a fever
Every other weekend kept it silent
Words are like a cleaver im a firm believer
Of procedure not a misdirection or a misdemeanor
I just left my senior days only to relapse another 40 years hopefully
My mental doesn't interfere with whatever career appears
Maybe not an engineer maybe a lyrical pioneer things are still unclear
I hope my souvenirs don't go and disappear
I hope I live a little more fancier and classier
I hope I clean up my rhymes this really might be my last grime
As I enter a new prime times are changing as we aging
Ill in the making real as I'm getting i'm forgetting some of the things
I wanted to make steel know the deal know my steel-low blows
To your frame and your feels new words reveal
(Magic, Magic, Magic, Made)
(Magic, Magic, Magic, Made)
Ill-literal new material i jot it down ethereal
Sparks while I'm eating cereal with no people sitting at the table
Cable Tv playing the unthinkable i'm writing a story his name is Lucas
He's unfazable, main idea of the topic is apocalypto
Got the protags name from my friend in school
They were fuel to my flames but nobody knew my game
Couldn't blame them cause remember
I don't say nothing but not bluffing i act like they can hear my mind
Roughing up my voice when I feel blind
Clearing up my sinuses I'm always stuffy
When I spit a rhyme my dad taught me
Authenticity specifically "these eyes"
My prize in times I take whats mines literally what I find primal
Instinct never found missing never found thinking around you cats
Yeah, it's all fun, this my last grimey one
(Magic, Magic, Magic, Made)
(Magic, Magic, Magic, Made)
(Magic, Magic, Magic, Made)
(Magic, Magic, Magic, Made)
(Magic, Magic, Magic, Made)
(Magic, Magic, Magic, Made)
(Magic, Magic, Magic, Made)
One strange demeanor quiet with a fever
Every other weekend kept it silent
Words are like a cleaver im a firm believer
Of procedure not a misdirection or a misdemeanor
I just left my senior days only to relapse another 40 years hopefully
My mental doesn't interfere with whatever career appears
Maybe not an engineer maybe a lyrical pioneer things are still unclear
I hope my souvenirs don't go and disappear
I hope I live a little more fancier and classier
I hope I clean up my rhymes this really might be my last grime
As I enter a new prime times are changing as we aging
Ill in the making real as I'm getting i'm forgetting some of the things
I wanted to make steel know the deal know my steel-low blows
To your frame and your feels new words reveal
(Magic, Magic, Magic, Made)
(Magic, Magic, Magic, Made)
Ill-literal new material i jot it down ethereal
Sparks while I'm eating cereal with no people sitting at the table
Cable Tv playing the unthinkable i'm writing a story his name is Lucas
He's unfazable, main idea of the topic is apocalypto
Got the protags name from my friend in school
They were fuel to my flames but nobody knew my game
Couldn't blame them cause remember
I don't say nothing but not bluffing i act like they can hear my mind
Roughing up my voice when I feel blind
Clearing up my sinuses I'm always stuffy
When I spit a rhyme my dad taught me
Authenticity specifically "these eyes"
My prize in times I take whats mines literally what I find primal
Instinct never found missing never found thinking around you cats
Yeah, it's all fun, this my last grimey one
(Magic, Magic, Magic, Made)
(Magic, Magic, Magic, Made)
(Magic, Magic, Magic, Made)
(Magic, Magic, Magic, Made)
Credits
Writer(s): Isaiah Amaru Degand
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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