Search results for 'carry matters with a high hand' Page #359

My usual highs are getting me low I don’t know why
I cannot shake my feverish mood no matter how hard I try

I’m Looking down the barrel of a gun

Soirees on the beach
Flying high far and wide   
You know, nothing’s out of reach

Yeah I’m the kinda crazy guy who stays in my own back yard   
Yeah my

on to my hand and ima take us there
It don't matter where we go we can anywhere
Long as the weather right and we breathe the purest air
Resident by the lake

fries (yeah)
You keep dealing with them lames I know yo heart tired (I know yo heart tired)
Heard that boy was switching sides now its in God's hands
(I'm

hands and tapped his feet
Growing up never singing a song
Never felt his heart belonged in a melody
He has my sympathy
I'd rather die you see
Than become

fly
Spoken soft and yet you still cry
I'm not wrong and yet I still lie
Don't listen, it don't matter, just chatter
Bottle of Henny to make the thoughts

my number
Make a trade
That bitch black as hell
And had a taper
I thought it was blade
You could bring a army
It don't matter cause they getting slayed

high up like a senator,
All of my flows are irregular, 
Damn i’m so hot, needa come check my temperature, 

Catching vibes like i’m obj,
Get to the money

ending long Hair
Rapunzel I'm in Tangled
Samson with a Mullet,
Try to cut it you get Mangled
Trust only my own two Hands
And my Fam Too
Magic Card
I Vanish

hands high this a stick up
Don't comply then these slugs will smack you on the back like you hiccup'd
I jus' ask here and now Lord forgive us
Amen

clap your hands
And get down

We gotta just kick out the blues 
the world keeps turning 
no matter what we do
With strobe lights and our funky sound

your hands
And get down

We gotta just kick out the blues 
the world keeps turning no matter what we do
With strobe lights and our funky sound 
Take your

and spoke to him
Something about a story for the eager and grim
It was a gift for the mad and the mad in craft
What did it matter if others thought he was

your hands
And get down

We gotta just kick out the blues 
the world keeps turning no matter what we do
With strobe lights and our funky sound 
Take your

the bleachers
Mamacita you a ten
Matter fact you more than that
Mami tú eres cien, thats one hundred
Imma sucka for that smile, thank yo momma
Cuz yo momma made

your hands
And get down

We gotta just kick out the blues 
the world keeps turning no matter what we do
With strobe lights and our funky sound 
Take your

clones
How you a gangster?
You argue on phones
We having that green nigga, just like some cabbage
I got too high, I told Glizzy to bag it
Yeah, that's my

in
Yo place
Then I walk up out it
Girls will swing
From man to man
Just to Spider-Man
You'll hear a THWAP!
When you hit the back
Of my writing hand
I

way too exotic
When I'm with you get high like a pilot
Bae stop forcing my hand yeah I'm tired
Fuck it let's go eye for eye
If I put my trust in you Is

professions
Still sitting on the couch
Still fed hand to mouth
Still broke and depressed
Your hair still a mess
Get a job, matter fact, get a hustle
Get some

(Hello!)
Out the vault and it's hazy
Geiger counter go crazy
Radiation gone wavy
High temp with no AC, yeah
Souls screaming out 'Save me!'
Corporations want

took so long for me tell you I was hurt
And I was numbing all my pain with poison making matters worse
I'm sorry that it happened
My shame never really

Yea
So how they like me now
It don't matter to me
Jealous people hate chatting with me
I can type how I speak
I took a leap of faith and haven't

just the tip
Really, showing off again
Always take the fall with the head up high