R.I.P. Songtext
von Guilty Simpson
R.I.P. Songtext
Standing on the edge of adrenaline
Slipped and fell when I landed, lost my innocence
Now I feel filthy, now I feel guilty
Focused on what I am, not what I will be
I'm a work in progress, it's a process
And it's documented the projects
I never been hard pressed to kick it with the in crowd
I became the in crowd, I'm the shit now, watch me
Might sound a bit cocky but these motherfuckers can't stop me
Bigger the yap, the bigger the slap
Bigger the hat, the bigger the gat
Squeeze somethin', chin check your best threat
Now get upset, cut check
We set it off, jettin' off, lead somethin'
I tend to offend cause I call it how I see it
And a win is a win
Sinister grin but rarely seen A pair of mini machines in my pair of jeans
Fully automatic, clap it, rapid, wack a rapper at a pace
Before they challenge their fate we send 'em outer space
We runnin out of control, you couldn't stop a freight
Train, your eyes realize you wouldn't pop a grape
I popped an eight, some excel invites
It's probably why I sleep well at night
My conscience clean, I used to have monster dreams
Now I shoot up and conquer things, yeah
I force your hand, my name ringin' bells across the land
For a feature that'll cost a band, or two, or few or four or more
I'm rugged to the core, hecklers watch the champagne pour
The camp ain't poor, we been it, winnin' somethin' every minute
Heed the message what we sendin'
They tried to divide and conquer but instead I divided my competition
With compositions amd sharp incisions
A taste, a waste
Bashing smashing blackness into utter disgrace
Like last in the race
Her-on, horse and stuff a feeling you feel once
Then you chase for the rest of the race
Like a wounded sickness carrying rat
Rat, RAT!
Simpson is formulating plans for biz
I'm more advanced than them campus kids
School y'all! More sharks than a pool hall
These high heads get smashed, we'll be cool tomorrow
I'm an underground lord cause I do it all
Run from nothin' no matter who you call
You're a fraud overwhelmed in the realm of realness
We signed and sealed it, and move tomorrow, ship 'em
Another victim, I don't wanna kick 'em while they down
But Mo the Town wisdom, we enlist 'em
A part of my army, and fighting with arms
We collide with zombies, and clash till it's all resolved
We never back down, and never lack sound
So you're advised to put the shovel back down
Cause we not dead yet, so adjust your headset
Yes!
Slipped and fell when I landed, lost my innocence
Now I feel filthy, now I feel guilty
Focused on what I am, not what I will be
I'm a work in progress, it's a process
And it's documented the projects
I never been hard pressed to kick it with the in crowd
I became the in crowd, I'm the shit now, watch me
Might sound a bit cocky but these motherfuckers can't stop me
Bigger the yap, the bigger the slap
Bigger the hat, the bigger the gat
Squeeze somethin', chin check your best threat
Now get upset, cut check
We set it off, jettin' off, lead somethin'
I tend to offend cause I call it how I see it
And a win is a win
Sinister grin but rarely seen A pair of mini machines in my pair of jeans
Fully automatic, clap it, rapid, wack a rapper at a pace
Before they challenge their fate we send 'em outer space
We runnin out of control, you couldn't stop a freight
Train, your eyes realize you wouldn't pop a grape
I popped an eight, some excel invites
It's probably why I sleep well at night
My conscience clean, I used to have monster dreams
Now I shoot up and conquer things, yeah
I force your hand, my name ringin' bells across the land
For a feature that'll cost a band, or two, or few or four or more
I'm rugged to the core, hecklers watch the champagne pour
The camp ain't poor, we been it, winnin' somethin' every minute
Heed the message what we sendin'
They tried to divide and conquer but instead I divided my competition
With compositions amd sharp incisions
A taste, a waste
Bashing smashing blackness into utter disgrace
Like last in the race
Her-on, horse and stuff a feeling you feel once
Then you chase for the rest of the race
Like a wounded sickness carrying rat
Rat, RAT!
Simpson is formulating plans for biz
I'm more advanced than them campus kids
School y'all! More sharks than a pool hall
These high heads get smashed, we'll be cool tomorrow
I'm an underground lord cause I do it all
Run from nothin' no matter who you call
You're a fraud overwhelmed in the realm of realness
We signed and sealed it, and move tomorrow, ship 'em
Another victim, I don't wanna kick 'em while they down
But Mo the Town wisdom, we enlist 'em
A part of my army, and fighting with arms
We collide with zombies, and clash till it's all resolved
We never back down, and never lack sound
So you're advised to put the shovel back down
Cause we not dead yet, so adjust your headset
Yes!
Writer(s): Byron Simpson, Ashley Anderson Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
