Flighteous - Sullivan Place

Never gon' stop givin' props to myself Now, pat me on the back, do a track for the wealth
Now, used to be the boy, want a chance, or a handout

Now, I'm in a deficit, I rep it to the death
Now, if you had a smile they'd , rip it from your face
Like, how you hate my happy, can you tell me what it taste like
Cook that Medellin, been a fiend, fuck the brake light

I'ma need the beam with the beam, kill the stage fright
I was in a stupor, all the groove was goin' dumb
Doin' shitty things, crispy cream on her tongue
The melodies I sung, probably gonna get me hung

Everything I love, movin' further than I want
And I hate everything that can clash with me, shit
And I hate everything that ain't makin' me be shit

Written by:
Rodja Fields

Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

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