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letra de the slaughter - the neverending mixtape

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[verse 1: shanga goman]
i heard you out there denying that shanga nice
like i don’t bring the the ruckus, wu tang, sean price
who want it with sg? man, you won’t come out the same
shame on a spitta who tryna run game
you the reason why i can’t rely on folks for motivation
all your flows uninspired and all your quotes are vacant
spitting metaphors that have been met before or better
claiming you a ruler? on my level? but your lines don’t measure
the shy guy sit in silence, do reconnaissance
have you face to face with your id off of this stream of consciousness
drown trick, not the one to play around with, don’t bother
turn any beat to a playground and the flow is lava
ain’t no touchin’, all of these foes lunch and
they can’t even console stomachs, all this perpetual rumbling, yeah
i’m cold blooded, reptilian, so rugged
say my name, say my name and a whisper leave bones jumping, goman
[verse 2: callmevince]
i light the blunt watch us turn into some aristotle socrates
gods is we, offer no apologies
policy, applies to those who follow sheep
self proclaimed a prodigy
on your knees, let that holy water drown you honey bees
f-ck a b-tch i could never trust a blonde hoe
i would hit just to pass her off i’m rondo
if she curvy line em up in the congo
my breath control something similar to tanjiro
i ripped my bible to shreds a long time ago
no one answered nun my prayers and then i lost my hope
the dominoes be falling, guess our time is close
well f-ck em all, i figure i could probably rise some more
i’m all in, i got the ace of spades
and i ain’t ever been the type to go and paper chase
but the politicians’ pockets packed tighter than her p-ssy so it’s probably best pull up with the latest wave
i’m talking power
grip the globe, big my soul by the hour
pick and roll, pick and roll getting sour
sickamore, type of sh-t to bring a coward
to his knees
pleading for power

[bridge: john the greek]
i know there’s something in the water
i’ll show you pigs to the slaughter, so just
sit tight while i say goodnight, let go
sit tight while i say good night, let go
[verse 3: man of met]
each line precise as an incision from a surgeon, listen
on how the words i’ve written got me into circles you’d murder to get in
i ain’t talking bout the lists that these journalists penning
i’m talking d1 teams that’ll work for the pennant
no humble brag, this a proud protestation
broadcast at long last across nations
sorry for the wait and i thank you for your patience
live from the bas-m-nt, loud and ungracious, it’s
the single blade of wheat in a field of chaff
standing in the dirty thirties, here to will the seedlings back
kicking up dust, and handing out f-cks
bout as honestly and frequent, as rap stations play something decent
unleashed with a mic to speak in
so ima air these thoughts out like wet clothes in the summer
microphone odinson known for the thunder
so if words that i spoke light the globe, it’s no wonder