Lyrics:
flames"
The antichrist is among us driven by
His greed holy ground
And God's child is his fear
The only thing that can him kill are the seven daggers
But
him lying in the middle of the floor with his eyes closed
He was the father of a family of seven, well eight
The youngest committed suicide in eighth
in my DNA and blood live by the money and gun
Study Art Of War so every single battle is won
Message to my unborn son so he will know how it's done
dead as Elvis Presley
As I deliver, hits to make 'em quiver
Make em shiver, Q-tip couldn't flow if he was a river
And me, I'm sellin' milli like run
Oh You drop a new album… Guess who don't give a fuck
And your Last one went platinum… Guess who don't give a fuck
And you Number one streaming… Guess
I need me an exorcist to get
This devil out of my head
My temperature has fallen and my
Eyes are turnin' red
But I'm dead and still mislead
By my
In the middle of the trenches
I can’t leave my house if I
Ain’t got my pistol with me lil Kobie dead
On God I wish he was in prison
These streets get
possibly the end?
Watched my brother bust out life
But now he dead but not the spirit you could
Hear from my chest
RIP my league, I cannot breathe
I need
second guessed, but guess what this is
That’s right– you getting cut
Let me tell ya a story about that one guy that came by
He was a guy from around
by the seven where them drills bring joy uh uh
What you saying about the score? forty-three that's the opps maybe add a couple more Uh uh
You're kind
and all day the omnipresent sand has been whipped up by an impudent wind, making progress all the more difficult
At dawn, I pinpointed the location
Couple shots get flamed on Skepta
If he's dead I'll write my name on Skepta
Skepta's a battyman! Shame on Skepta
I'll put the blame on Skepta
Make police
divorce (talkin' divorce)
Said daddy was livin' by the fire, and he died by the torch (check, check)
I'm where the AKs is, we like the Bébé's Kids
Ain't
abetoko, won't miss out, Akantekaho to reach out
To they that lay among the dead,
To survive trading their birth right for bread, Servants pon the horses
takin' subliminal
Cause they can't get what I got's
They want it so bad, four million dollar pad
And enough to retire off two albums, gone, wave ya' white
You looking for me
There here go
You looking for me
There here go
There He Go
TerryO
There He Go
TerryO
You looking for me
There here go
You looking
I was born to no ordinary man
Under seven moons I was called to this land
Angels blood and demons seed
Walked through fire to make a man out of me
I
still, codeword for reggies
I ain't sign a deal yet, fuck it, I don't need 'em
Everybody with me eatin' free my niggas 'til I see 'em
He ain't dead we
free, free, free
What up humans?
This is not Hannibal Barbarus
This is destroy
Special Ed students call me D-Story
We here, hijacking this Lucky 7 album
of the dead
For that this world will end does exist as part of time
From the river comes the flood
Created in seven days to god, shall be erased come the eighth
and the Firstborn One
Glory to Him who loves us and released us from sin by His blood
He has made us a kingdom
Priests to God and His Father above
Jesus
So shall it
matches
Full linen suit
Next to Lisa Les, some WNBA loot
Slide a few mommies on a plane
Sippin' coladas
Wrote half the album over the
Sands in the Bahamas
like a dead body coming for its murderer
Shit, you seen Chino lately? You gotta see him
What you get to make an album, I get in one day's per diem
Go
burner woods, exposed wrist
Gray smoke drift, stones and sticks
Sure to talk shit like he's paid to do it
Major raised within a range of ruins, wakes
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