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Ha. Blood type is Yankee blue. Sky came, jumped off the steps and made a coup. My refined lane bust out the left to play the loop. If you sideways come out your neck, bring a noose.
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If you ever hear the song of a dying phoenix. don't let sadness close your ears. you may offend the secret face of nature. It is not a mourning but a hymn..
[music: SOTIRIS]. . When alliance has the value. of a broken royal seal,. heroic is the denial to bent. to a flamboyant mighty siege.. . Falcons are their arrows.
In an empty room eyes without a face.. They are stirring other images,. glimpses of a distant life,. of a gone life.. . The hands cannot identify the face.
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I'm so alone. But all of my friends, but all of my friends, got some shit to do, yea. All of 'em got plans, I call 'em up, "my bad," and text 'em. They never cross me like bad pedestrians.
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I'm in love with broken girls, girls, girls, hey girl, girl, girl, girl. I'm in love with broken girls, girls, girls, girls, girls, girls, hey girl. .
I'm so alone. But all of my friends. But all of my friends, got some shit to do, yeah. All of 'em got plans, I call 'em up, "my bad," and text 'em. They never cross me like bad pedestrians.
Ayy, ayy, ayy. Watch it there, watch me ayy. Watch me ayy, ayy, ayy. . I got a beautiful smile. Honestly I forgot how. Since I put my boy in a box. Sometimes I see him in the cloud.
PART 1 [Bad And Boujee Remix]. . [Intro]. Whatever, whatever, whatever. Mr. Porter don't trust you I'm gon' bust you nigga. That thang pop, pop pop. Whatever, whatever, whatever.
Cruising down the river. Dancing 'til your feet got numb. Cool,. summer breezes blowing through your hair,. as you stood gazing down the river in anticipation of the thrill of.
[Royce Da 5'9"]. Yeah!. Welcome to the M.I.C Mixtape niggaz!. Volume two!. We back niggaz!. Oh yeah, by the way, y'all know what my motherfuckin' name is.
{*Chorus fades in*}. [Chorus: Royce - repeat 2X]. I am my brother's keeper, the reason you in touch with the Reaper. If I ain't the reason you bleedin is because you ain't give me a reason.
[Chorus]. Bomb First niggaz. You gotta hurt niggaz. Put in work niggaz. God made dirt niggaz. It don't hurt niggaz. Drama ain't certain niggaz. But death is.
Uhh, boom. . Tick, tick, tick, yeah, 5'9 uhh. Yo. I'm the verbal-spit Smith Wesson. I unload with sick spit, the quick wick could split a split-second.