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lirik lagu summer 7 – ivy winters

he’s over extended in his credit
then i’ma freak it, i’ma have this, yo
super b*lls don’t care where his nuts at
ready or not… * it’s time to go
what’s a puppet compared to geppetto? h*llo
my dim light, did like, hit me with insight
unperplexed, who’s next in the spot light
now that’s my folks at the door
a, coincidence everything is the same
i will shoot, stab, kick, bite, scratch and claw
ya’ll think it’s a game
cuz they spit the same ol’ same
sweatin out your inner dеmons in my vicinity
vividly describin the pain inside of this еntity
and i take baths with vanity
when we started off everything was real smooth
if we really want to see eternity
i speak through you to aware the youth
faded out, with a razor blade in my mouth
the rhymes much more than words thrown together
styles change up like the weather
sweatin out your inner demons in my vicinity
one component’s sure to shock a mass burial, breeze
movin, one force one love one whole community
god’s hopped out of me, had to swallow my cheese
there’s stealers on my team that smash blows and freeze
as i climb the elevator, housing and the ten acres
boys can’t fade us, we the rap game lakers
stretch out the clock i’ma live out every second
creating the vibe for me to demonstrate dope facts
not knowing it was just a bottle went broken..
on the real like that, where the party still cracks
i’ma give it to you no sales tax
and we was too blind to see the light?
now me and my folk, they high as a kite
satans will is stronger but it flew to my veins
i couldn’t live this type of life no more
now it’s three thoro chicks, but the name remains
forgot all of which he had came from before
you’re a knock knock but n0body answer the door
i getcha higher than a tree top
got, make the beat drop
sent out secretly to take my head
i’m taking the high road going above you
ripping it that’s why i’m flipping the bread
i speaks so sweet, and freak shorties, a d.u.e
pizzle, my nizzle, peace to fran dizzle and my folks in
sh*t ain’t nothin’ change like i told y’all anything you make
that the record that i’m makin is a mistake
you the sh*t brown eyes, you the sh*t’s what i said
don’t get me wrong, i’m not your mister sleazy
and pretend i’m a pilgrim on thanksgiving, and butcher your head
she knows, my pockets stay extremely cheesy
my hustlers and my thugsters, holla back breathe easy
stop! put your hands on your head
now who’s that sleepin’ in my bed
we gon’ do this one for jesus, rock steady baby
while i’m bumping at the light in a mean drop
its not easy, this isn’t how it oughta be
but whateva the case, i stuck close to my hip*hop
now when it comes to the hippest in hip*hop
trademarc, marc predka, jot the real name down
i could erase this permanent frown

- ivy winters

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