Monday, 20 February 2017

I'm Used To It By Now lyrics


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(verse 1)

Befriending I, until the end of the sky. If I end, it's the end of the sky. But I begin when the sky ends. Night time. I'm the N in the night. N. The Middle of the Night (In The Middle of the Night). Billy Joel. Really souls, you gotta get up and get silly with me so I don't get so silly with the globe and slit my wrist or let a nigga fold, in me. So, I don't sleep. I simply go in, knowing there's envy. Don't tempt me. No one can end me, unless they are in me. Therefore, envy. No speech, no speech involved. Just me being a creature, speaking from the top. People ought to know that it's hot. The reason why I go is because there's ain't reason to be hot. Except me...

(hook)
You are my only friend.
You are my only friend.
I need your dedication.
Your respiration.
And your peace.
Rest in peace.

(verse 2)

I inspire, then I inspire retirement from them sires. At the same time, I don't really fire spit. I just perspire. Every word is fire. Because I dictated it, with dictatorship and the very fact I'm a dick when I spit. But I'm not hard. I could get there, though... sit there with a 'fro and I'll stare at your throat. Or, you could have the waviest hair/the craziest snares and I'll end up inside wishing to die. Again. But this is my time. When I rhyme. From my within. It's kinda hard to be this nice. Because I end up tossed from that plank. And cats can't wait to shank me. So I don't go to jail. So, baby, thank me.


(hook)
You are my only friend.
You are my only friend.
I need your dedication.
Your respiration.
And your peace.
Rest in peace.

(verse 3)

Help me understand me better. I could do better if I could see better. I could see "whether", but I *knew* "whoever" could control me. Therefore, it's not Shinobi. Why am I controlled? Letting go of all that I hold on to, to hold on to you. Hold on. I "Hold On" to the view. No one wanna go on while I hold on, so I "Hold On" to you. Hold on, while I drive and you puke. Hold on while I'm wylin in the booth. Hold on, while I'm showing off and showing (on and on) my style, 'cause it's the truth. And my style is hostile 'cause niggas who are trying to get in the Moscow game are now bowing out saying they cannot aim, and I get the blame of it. Who knew?

(hook)
You are my only friend.
You are my only friend.
I need your dedication.
Your respiration.
And your peace.
Rest in peace.








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This year is just getting started.



























~follow the buzzards~

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