Saturday, 20 August 2016

A Curse lyrics

Dedicated to the troublesome Simone Marshall.






(verse 1)

Your man is short (Shortt). Your man's a bore. Hamilton is far from a snore. In fact, I'm charming. And then some. Minus the income. Republic paid enough, but the public ain't late enough on the sacred stuff that I give 'em. So whenever I'm spittin', they get it and I'm living. Word to my rhythms. Or the River of The Nile. My style is like that when you're diving in it. Try the Olypmic-sized pool of that and try to end up the seismograph of my raps. That's the same try. Same -try as in The Indus-. That bothers me to the end of us. No end of us. But you got a boyfriend. Don't pretend you love him, girl...

(hook)

I feel bad for your boyfriend.
We both know he is not me.

I wish I was your boyfriend.
Not that "other" carbon copy.

(verse 2)

I didn't mean to let you down when I messed around, but the chick had a sexy gown and her ass was so fat. You were nowhere around. So fair it sounds to me to go down on you (when you come back home), but I had to let you know that I had to bone a bad chick. Her ass was Chrome (Google) and Magic. Smacked her ass and holding it, just imagining it was you... So, I cheated. Therefore, I deserve you to be leaving, and I believe in the reason. The fact that I cannot be a MonogamyTreason kind of guy is the reason why my apology needs to be seated and seen as the bottom line of me speaking, RIGHT NOW. But it's bothering me, because you kinda like my style. And you wish to get down with me. So, it's just a crown for me. And a round.

(hook)

I feel bad for your boyfriend.
We both know he is not me.

I wish I was your boyfriend.
Not that "other" carbon copy.

(verse 3)

Magick acknowledged. The madness polished. Back to me blacking, and have to be honored. But I'ma be honored by Rihanna when I see her. Because she's ANTI-me, and I believe her. Hi, Gia (and my other niggas in the hood). I figured you would know my shit is good. My flow is intricate, kinda like Suge. Musclebound, though. Bound to the flo-o-r. Like an operating room. So far, "Why you hatin' on this dude?" Blow job. What I get from your boo. Sacred. That's the "what I call it when I pipe in it and lay it." Nigga. What I'm saying is the greatest. Acknowledge it, like the magic I did. Rap to this shit, and have you a sip of the nastiest shit that you could sip. 

That'll be it...













~follow the buzzards~

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