Homeboy Sandman, Shad, Tah Phrum Duh Bush - Earth, Wind, Fire lyrics

[Homeboy Sandman, Shad, Tah Phrum Duh Bush - Earth, Wind, Fire lyrics]

Fire marshall on speed dial
Swinging towards the farthest branch
Back at the ranch, meanwhile torch lit
Cough up bad shit like brother in green mile
It's your local broken release valve now
Roads are to ease down
Me and your the cliqua kicking
Freestyles over pollo guisado
That autograph will cost you a
Shiatsu and a grease down
Rockin' a geese down
Stones Throw's in your glass house
Cooking casseroles to them assholes down
To their last out
Fresh out of the manhole into the madhouse
And how i roll with a shamwow for
Cleaning your cache out
Cats in 4-D, heard demons get cast out
And back at age fourteen, females I asked out
That's when I passed out

I love it when the
Puppet interrupts the puppeteer
Man up, you got a hand up your back
Tuck in your tears taking is overrated
I'm asking what did you give
One of your ribs like you was Adam for real
Doesn't matter if you had a
Fatter shadow than him
Razzle dazzling your peers with that
Ain't even payed for
Four times more than what
You could have payed
Could've stayed from now to the grave
You addicted to that bullshit they kicking
Huh? Sounded all young with
The ticket-ticket-ticketron
Style, got enough to spare I
Could lend you some
Go for what I know first
Then you up in your come
Comfortable, yeah, got a lung full of air
Saying prayer before I share like
A monk with no hair
I titter round with the honor
Line up the rest whether major or minor
Falling behind this diamond district

Your record labels don't shine me
But they know how to find me
Act blindly, lip service and no eyes like
I'm not your, I say that from my spacecraft
In your swimming pool with socks on
A hairy chest and a shaved back
No heroics, I'm diffusing you homophobics
Benching fifty in my zumba class
And doing step aerobics
Get my wild guy freestyle on
Fly like Arizona in your
Like sock-hop, get your '78 style on
I do this shit that makes the
People who makes the industry
Standers want to shoot me
Like driving around with a dime
Piece and bird-shaped covered
Do what I want to do do what I'm gonna do
Play that background on your your style is
Lightweight like is two very rarely do
Kinda like the summer flu
If you didn't get it you need to rewind
Put my dick in your conscious
And fuck with your mind
Tell you mom to be at the around three
She bought the condoms last time
Now they on me

From the land of beavers
And Bieber and meaters
Instead of feed 'em features, free verses
My field of research
Teacher at the school of hard knocks
Where I lecture on leisure
Leader of the new school
Ph deeper than Steve Kurth girth of Khalida
My means still got the speed burst
Down the baseline, reverse a lay-up
I'm leaner
I'm like either like free political
Prisoners are selling t-shirts
With jail bars underneath them
Reading "free merch"
Sell them after shows for like
Double what the T's worth
You could spend half the fee on
Some fried Arabian cheese curds
Eat first and rip the mic
Rapid be the beats
Dirty singing the key words
Even scream it loud as the
Crowd in the bleachers it's to be heard
Murder mics that seep through your speakers
That won't find peace in police searches
Street persons to keep urbans, we
All the same people, let's keep working

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