Sean Price - S.E.A.N. lyrics
[Sean Price - S.E.A.N. lyrics]
They call me S-E-A-N
Peep in your mind, run tell your children
The God spit fire, admire the skills, friend
The skills been acquired since
Living in Tilden
Yo, somebody call the morgue
I just called it DOA two to the head
I shot the bitch in broad day
No time for the tattlin', babblin', okay?
Told my brother
Put the bitch in a barrel like Torae
When it comes to hard bar, that's me all day
Your shit got flaws, pa, and it saw no days
I'm the raw rap writer, reciter of raw raps
All that wack shit that you're talkin'
Just fall back
See, my flow off some one-two shit
P fly, GI joe, the Kung Fu Grip
Got a lock on the game, not with the games
Bare-knuckle, your frame
Got my mind made up, you can't convince me
Holmes that the way to the top is
My cock in Quincy Jones
Secret society designed by man
Made the Mason beat the murder
Making signs with his hands
Who manufactured that shit
Don't believe in none of that shit
Your facts are backwards
A active inactive gang leader
Well-loved in the streets, my peeps
They been heated
They call me S-E-A-N
Peep in your mind, run tell your children
The God, spit fire, admire the skills, friend
The skills been acquired since
Living in Tilden
They call me S-E-A-N
Peep in your mind, run tell your children
The God spit fire, admire the skills, friend
The skills been acquired since
Living in Tilden
Peep in your mind, run tell your children
The God spit fire, admire the skills, friend
The skills been acquired since
Living in Tilden
Yo, somebody call the morgue
I just called it DOA two to the head
I shot the bitch in broad day
No time for the tattlin', babblin', okay?
Told my brother
Put the bitch in a barrel like Torae
When it comes to hard bar, that's me all day
Your shit got flaws, pa, and it saw no days
I'm the raw rap writer, reciter of raw raps
All that wack shit that you're talkin'
Just fall back
See, my flow off some one-two shit
P fly, GI joe, the Kung Fu Grip
Got a lock on the game, not with the games
Bare-knuckle, your frame
Got my mind made up, you can't convince me
Holmes that the way to the top is
My cock in Quincy Jones
Secret society designed by man
Made the Mason beat the murder
Making signs with his hands
Who manufactured that shit
Don't believe in none of that shit
Your facts are backwards
A active inactive gang leader
Well-loved in the streets, my peeps
They been heated
They call me S-E-A-N
Peep in your mind, run tell your children
The God, spit fire, admire the skills, friend
The skills been acquired since
Living in Tilden
They call me S-E-A-N
Peep in your mind, run tell your children
The God spit fire, admire the skills, friend
The skills been acquired since
Living in Tilden