Fed up Everlast

Lyrics

  • Song lyrics Redakcja
Lord have mercy, Lord have mercy
I got demons runnin’ through my slate
They like to creep when my thoughts get deep
Scheemin’, trying to find a place to fit in
And manifest itself in the form of a sin
If I was Rin Tin Tin I’d rip the skin off of Lassie
The shit you talk is idle threatening to blast me
You high on gas like a rastaman farted
Don’t set it off kid and get me started
‘Cause you’re highly reguarded when you’re dearly departed
But momma’s still crying asking God
Why in the world could you take her only child
When you was frontin’ on the streets like you was buckwild
To keep it real kid you gots to stay humble
You can’t fumble and if you gots to rumble
Then word to Bryant Gumble I’m a live for today
And God bless the man that steps in my way
‘Cause if I said it somebody’s getting wetted
So just keep your cool and everything’s copasetic
Pull out your heater kid spit your razor
And mine’ll still be the intellect that plays ya
‘Cause when the mic check I’m high tech skills are apparent
You can play the child kid I’ll play the parent
‘Cause I ain’t responsible for your schooling
But I won’t change your diapers or do your car pooling

CHORUS
Get up I’ll break ya down a little somethin’
I’m fed up it’s time to go head huntin’
Dead up too many crews be frontin’
I’m fed up it’s time to go head huntin’
Get up I’ll break ya down a little somethin’
I’m fed up it’s time to go head huntin’
Dead up too many crews be frontin’
I’m fed up it’s time to go head huntin’

Lord have some mercy on my soul, whoa whoa

Now why everybody makin’ shit that’s unreal
‘Cause the A in man he wants mass appeal
Forgettin’ all about how it’s supposed to feel
Kids be going out for the record deal
So if you pull out the clap then bust your cap
Or I’m a make like the van and drop bomb on your gat
But don’t snap ‘cause this ain’t HBO
Kid you got no Benz plus you got no dough
While you say that though you trying to gain that ho
Used to be you had to rhyme about stuff you knew
I don’t need MTV to make no bucks
I rock styles that make you say ‘uh, who that was?’
Who that was is the many boy
I was sending all star players straight back to the showers
Fake hard rocks are really just cowards
I master dub plates like my name’s Herb Powers
I getcha open like huntin’ season
I make papers don’t front on the reason
‘Cause I’m sizing up every day
You say carpe dion I call’em like I see’em

CHORUS




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