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letra de hype on the mic - ibby

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[verse]
how could you hate me man? i spit about my struggle
and i spit about the hustle
i had pipes in my lung, piercing through the f-cking muscle
b-tches talking sh-t, somebody get a muzzle
you can wait in line, only one can fit the puzzle
i’m surviving in the ends
i ain’t trying to end up dead
my akhi’s shotting z’s on a ped in the west
i’m not trying to be like him, i told him “you do your thing”
i’m trying to make this money hands-free while i’m walking
ramadan, brothers losing families and lives over dumb sh-t
the dunya’s getting messed, that pretty much sums it
man committed suicide in mecca
rest in peace, i’m hoping we can all live better
trendsetter, go-getter
yeah that’s me, i set examples
at your window like jehovah’s if you run off with the samples
i don’t need a carti
hit the masjid not a party
i dare a man to touch me because allah is my army
they just see the clothing, they don’t see the hard work
they just see the image, they don’t know my heart hurts
word to dvs, the situations are worse
they wanna see red on me, like a starburst
but i know my path
the only time you’ll see me is in a photograph
so you can hold the laugh
i’m not claiming i know the roads, but i know the roads
09, since then i came up on my own
you don’t know my life when it was stuck in south
claiming that i had it easy, shut your f-cking mouth
you don’t know half, in fact you don’t know quarter
many punctured lungs, i was waiting for the porter
before you @ me, come with facts b
leaking lung in the back of a taxi
i had my mama stressed
she’s telling me i’m blessed
two pipes, fifteen centimetres in my chest
my dad didn’t come to visit ’cause he couldn’t take it
smiling on the phone to me, fam he had to fake it
everyday 11pm, the same text
praying for you son, hoping your day’s blessed
waiting for my mum at like seven in the morning
she stayed with me all night until the nurse gave her warning
that’s not half, that’s a part of my struggle
so i ask, how could you hate me man? i spit about your life
i don’t spit about what’s nice
i don’t spit about the money or the girls or the ice
still they tell me that they hate me
tell me they don’t rate me
what do i have to do to make a brudda listen lately?
i’m just trying to make a change ’cause the change made me
forget what you know, i am not the same g
don’t trust my patience ’cause i’m asian, you can hold smoke
leave you limping, hard to walk, something like an old bloke
don’t judge me ’cause i rap
i know akhis shotting crack
who pray five times, now say something to that
we all have our struggle
some struggle more than others
but who are we for input? and i put that on my mother’s
at the masjid i was weak
times were getting peak
regretting all my sins and i wasn’t getting sleep
i left it to my lord
he left me with a cure
since then, i’ve never took my head up off the floor

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