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lirik lagu ichabod – sutaijian

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like what now?
put that b*tch in a dog pound
you ain’t ever let me hit it raw once
he was all naked when he was digging up your walls

call myself more fortunate for once
imagine catching a second*hand contact with the girl you loved
let me switch it up around, raw to the war
i should’ve seen the warning signs when they popped up on my mind interface
i should’ve checked the voicemail on your intercom
i should’ve checked them missed calls when you claim they came from your momma
i should’ve checked myself on the amount of pleasure i ever gave you?
am i not enough? but only god could save you
it’s not about who did that?
the love of my life ended up being more of a scumbag than all of them hood rats

i do this so all my brothers get with models
but i’ll come back to get her, i don’t want that life
i’m done writing songs about her, i’ll write songs that i could make with her
if god was a woman know i’m spreading her legd
this girl know she too beautiful
well that’s bad news to me
and good news to you
i can’t sign no prenup
even if she leave i won’t regret it
i know i’ll love her forever
even if another man’s in the picture
i wanna be the one to watch how well she ages
and even she greys for the worse, her soul will always be beautiful
thats why i can’t be no independent man
but she could sure as h*ll be an independent woman
standing on her two little feet i would always caress
i can’t even stand my own ground
like what now
put that b*tch in a dog pound
you ain’t ever let me hit it raw once
he was all naked when he was digging up your walls
send him up to god
my clique got forty sticks
that b*tch was mis*misfortune
i might call her my ichabod
small town b*tch, rodeo drive enamour
that’s gods art in mortal flesh
i’m fit in every other test
just don’t come around for no drug tests
i test positive, they push p like i push parcels
to these heroin junkies, skid row fiends
its like i was born in westside medellin
send him up to jehovah, it’s on some ’96 hova
i turned the saints into sinners
i turned their smiles into st. anger
i turned to metal to some platinum
then i put my fist in this b*tch, screaming
a supermodel’s just another bad habit
then i put this b*tch in rotation like she making radio singles
i put this b*tch in rotation like she a blunt i’ve been lacing
i can’t run away from life’s problems
so best believe, imma runaway from this life itself
they ask me why i cut her off? price of fame maybe
we could’ve never been that red*carpet couple cause you the weak link
she knicked off my cuff links, 30k down the drains just another day to me

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