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Tradition
by
Fashawn
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Lyrics
Right now I could be high on anything You wouldn’t realize ‘cause you hide behind pills and lean To anaesthetize and disguise your feelings see Take your time to advise esthetic dentistry ‘Cause you ‘gon need to clarify whether you’ll get grilled and fried Or finally grit your teeth, I’m in the vicinity Energy intensifies tremendously, demented fiends to chemistry Tremble and surrender by the scent of me I am endlessly revving my electric engine Speed extends with every line I am a**embling And you think that by coincidence I would stretch this line so lengthily But in hindsight you see – my mind is a Tesla limousine (Skrr) This is BigSur, check your screen Like Disney Pixar, what you see depends on me Because these pictures I make ‘em read my lips first To a**ure what I spit works, then I script the scene A**isted by the Grizzly City Chief, while it seems All you do is surf the internet for gifs and memes See if I was Rip Curl, I wouldn’t push a tee Though I agree – being this dope is brickwork Back when all I wanted was to get heard But to strike the right note, I couldn’t hold a key (oooh) Now lyrically, I am six foot seven inches deep You’re the height of Peter Dinklage tryin’ to hit my knees No killing time when it’s killing time (‘tis the season) No killing time when it’s killing time (‘tis the reason) No killing time when it’s killing time (‘tis the season) No killing time when it’s killing time (it’s tradition) No killing time when it’s killing time (‘tis the season) No killing time when it’s killing time (‘tis the reason) No killing time when it’s killing time (‘tis the season) No killing time when it’s killing time Spit like a Mini Mack, tongue go brrraaat Pen like Cinemaxx, rap game gimme that (gimme that sh*t n***a) I’m throwing shots out, I’m throwing Henny back I got a bigger stack, bigger than Guerilla Black I don’t do trap beats, this a track meet I brought wrap cleats, far from an athlete I’m from the backstreets, Kingpin to all the crack fiends I got flat feet, still I curve b*t*hes Spit fire, burn bridges Cremate, I urn n***as Take the iron bird and I earn figures Throwing shade in my lighthouse I ain’t even concerned with it Presidential but the term different Move slow I ain’t syrup sipping Serving chicken, Vitamin D Leave that bird on the curb sitting Y’all wonder what the word’s worth More millions that Merv Griffin I hurt feelings, in the act of the turf-peeling Eat MCs, I’m Big Lurch Save the rest for the earth-digger, was a purse snatcher Shawn Michael, Triple H – I leave you in a hearse after I dirt-nap ya Drama cla** you’re the worst actor, n***a That’s on Ala**ane, you need a Oscar Pop like Redenbacher, toting the chopper (Boom Boom Boom!) I carry on tradition and take my commission This is alchemy mixed with Martin and Malcom vision Mighty-morphing Fash, I done made it off the ave I dip the flow in Kerosine and got it towards the ash Floyd Mayweather the way I got up off the corner fast I learned currency is more than cash My autograph, more than a stack The more that I yap, the audience clap For this audio crack, I’m god in the flesh Far from Father Allah, just call me the F Or Armstrong, my n***a I get all of you stretched B*t*h [Hook]
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