Fryday Lyrics – The Realist G
Singer: The Realist G
Title: Fryday
Yeah
Ay is this thing on
Turn my headphones up a lil bit brahman
Let me tell ’em, one take, Ay
Couldn’t fit in their world, I
Had to create my own ball
Rest it on da palm, I spun it around
And watch the world drown
Knock knock let ’em in
Father, please forgive my sins
Only thing I’m doin’ wrong
Is tryna be a better man
Champion I might send a telegram
To Flex and David Letterman
And let ’em know to let me in on everything
I work hard, blessed I am
Probably ain’t the best, I am
Please don’t put me in da samе room
Than all the f#ckin’ rest of em
Click-click Yo
But I might go
Got that killеr instinct like a psycho
Tech N9ne flow with a chop blow
I flex pain and skill I do it cutthroat
Then leave da sh#t show like pronto
Better hop son watch da sh#t bro
Sidney Prescott slam da door shut
On your way out this is war brah
Just the warm up no J Cole
I pack heat in there, I’m sheer noble
Where the match at? bring gasoline
And methanol, 10 gallons of dieseline
Your turn to scream
I’ma blow this b#tch to smithereens
Lean mean G grillin’ murda scene
I diJeff da drama and Scarver da beef
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Lyrics The Realist G – Fryday
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