Lyrics:
can't hit the ground
These niggas be broke, they dumb, they clowns
My niggas step out, drip water, don't drown
Bro jump in the trap, he gettin' off
I'm in my bag, I win by miles
Yeah, that big lad knows, it's been my house
It's been five hours
I'm in the spot, it's filled with clowns
Yeah, I'm
resident
Makin ends daily
Fuck being locked in Bailey
Boo I got to feed my baby
And maybe lately
You've been havin dreams
Of this mothafucka followin your
and drown
Judging by your size how you fuck around with clowns
You should fuck around with now
Can't control the feelin' when you rollin' shotgun by my
the rhymers say
I'm inclined to play cos in the end it's entertainment
Crafted and created, loungeroom and the basement
Break-in, and of the things stolen by
way too long
Now we all in gotta watch out
Hoodie never let the watch out
I can tell by the way some people acting they ain’t never have to watch out
an r-e-s-i-and-g first
He didn't climb or work
There's not a dime in his life that he earned
I was inspired by the flightless bird
On a pack of cigs
And then since
Yeh gettin gangsta up in Andy's house
It's like this
Spragga, Black Josh, Illa
Crazy
got that swag
got ten toes
sip my Henn'y on the road
from JA
if I could then I would and if he would then why bother
Can you send in help
Became so lost in my pride and my likes and my follows
I felt my heart
and i send you packing out the fucking door
Pull up to the city, need a 100 for a show
Get it and i stack it like the shit some dominos
Man how the hell i
The house band in the dish rack plays
Send in the clowns
Every weeknight
Now that we're ex-college kids
We don't wish for better things
We stare off
know that I’m back with a rap I
Never back down from a wack clown you’re in the background I’m front and Center
It’s time to crack down got a stacked
The wrath of prophecies
Divide and conquer, can't agree to disagree
At war with anything and everything displeasing
Send in the rodeo clowns, release
Sleepwalking through our spoon-fed lives
As evidence of times before
In chapters long forgotten
The rotting tombs of history are written by
Send me back I'm waiting here in line
Since when you said it was supposed to be so
I called you up when I was feeling dead
What can I do I'm
band in the dish rack plays
Send in the clowns
Every weeknight
Now that we're ex-college kids
We don't wish for better things
We stare off and we wish
Send me back I'm waiting here in line
Since when you said it was supposed to be so
I called you up when I was feeling dead
What can I do I'm
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