letra de don't paint the sun - disheveled cuss
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hot like the h-ll, sidewalk screamers preach
the tip of the belt burns me where i sit
she knows the smell nowhere else can bake
quite like the sun in the golden state
heat looks good on
you sweat on me
now that i’m stuck, locked in here to think
push down the glass, peel me off the seat
forward and fast, sucking down the steam
weight of the air crushed me like a dream
don’t paint the sun anymore for us
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