Slaine, IAmBlanco, Moroney, Patrick Star, Lou Armstrong - Something To Believe In lyrics

Cheya! Slaine, what up?
Er'day I wake up to the
Same shit, I've been cakin', cheya
But nowadays the more niggas hatin', cheya
They in the cut sittin' patient
Waiting for me to meet God or Satan
Cheya, I'm in the streets
Where the killers roam
Them villains know if you fake like silicone
You talk about it but inside the kid a clone
And under pressure he'll fold
Man I should've known
Shit I deal with, tryin' to make a mil quick
Still sick
Can't find a real chick to chill with
I know about a dollar
Neck frozen by the collar
Them O's and then them timers
Goons holding on a Llama's
TEC blowing for the drama
Got a Trojan for your mama
While she blowin' on this gamma
Getting low in the Bahamas
Slaine said Lou, "Get on some lyrical shit"
It's a miracle I ain't spiritual
The shit that I lived that real street shit
Real niggas that I eat with
Let the heat spit
Getting caught and don't see shit
Running with killers of the grittiest kind
It's Lou Armstrong, AKA The City Is Mine
C'mon

Three things I hate girls, women and bitches
Spit venom I hock spit, Vivica licked it
Cynical fit a lyrical dick, I'm hot
My temp is dipped in lyrical whip, I'm not
To be fucked with, Period lips
With them pyramids I'm buried with
Spirituals fixed next to me
Your whole crew is a terrible mix
I'm a Don you're a pawn, America's bitch
And you're quick to verticle flip
Which means you snitch of heard
Of a tip bitch
Niggas skin you and turn you to mix
Magic, Similar to an Earvin was sick
Tragic, that's wear to a turban that ticks
Flowing up memorial
Sartorial showing it's fixed
You're an orphan and me I done fathered you
And often I'm awesome
The chips I done offered you
It's big deal, but the deal might cost you

Heyyo, Moroney, I'm the best bar none
These lame ass rappers got bars, none
I shit bars it's a bar stool
High off hallucinogenics
Looks like a cartoon
Spark tools, harpoons are harm dudes
Wet 'em up while they in the whip
That's a carpool
Your girlfriend is a bitch and you are too
But she's down for the D too, so don't argue
Anak-fly talker Skywalker, high off a
That Sour Patch
Holla back if you let your dollars stack
Cats try to hate but take
Pics and ask for autographs
Copycats hang 'em up to dry like a towel rag
I told y'all I ain't the
Runner up, I'm so high
I'm literally running up
Blunted up, with two L's
That's a double Dutch
I'm on the bottom she's on the top
I'm cumming up

The beam ready homie
Got 'em dropping like right now
Them things heavy on me
Get 'em poppin' like right now
Y'all better back down, quiet or hype down
Or have some niggas right now
Lying your ass down cause when the beef come
These niggas never there
We gonna bring it to your
Mans or whoever there
I got them dudes on the
Streets and they rubber band
Bullets crushing bones you can see
We ain't never scared
You can see that we everywhere
O Town to Bean Town, BX to B-More
Still on the block trying to
See checks to see more
We ain't gonna stop till the
Whole team eat more
We Hit Makerz, we get paper
Get chicks to taste us
Berra said it the best
And we ain't gonna stop never put it to rest
It's HM motherfucker we the best of the best

Look we all need somethin' to believe in
And this world i live inside
Of yeah it's trife
You can pray to Jesus Christ for
Your fuckin' life if you like
You can be the white picket
Fence type with the wife
You can knock her up twice
Hang the fuckin' Christmas lights
From the pipes, you know that bitches trife
When you come home from work and
You find her gettin' piped
By some jerk, do you kill her with the knife?
'Cause the world crushed all
That you believe in
And she's livin' with the
Mailman in your crib
And your kid's call him daddy while
Their Mama drive a Caddy
That those cocksuckers paid for
With your bread
I would rather sip Goose from a plastic cup
Get sucked by my broad 'til I crash the truck
I would rather quit a job
Where they treat me like a slob
Turn the motherfuckin' mall to a massacre
Swear to God I ain't livin' like a dog
I'm taking what I want 'til I'm livin'
In the prison or a morgue
Talkin' to myself the television isn't on
Smokin' chron' on the lawn writin'
Rhythms to a song
That's who I been man, who I'll always be
I'm still the same kid back
From them hallways G
So fuck you if the world's against me
I'll change the story all around I'mma emcee