Section 805
Come on black cap, shirt says Iraq with a C
I'm still rocking Dickies like it's 1993
No... skinny jeans for me. Whatever nigga do your thing
No one hip as me. Time machine on D's
My hip-hop make a blind broad stop to jock
I wear the sun around my neck and it's not over the top
I said Hey Girl, I heard you like the baller rap singers
Why can't you see the seven rings of Saturn on my pinkie finger
Now that's SHINE that you're soaking in
Besides I haven't met a woman that I couldn't hear the ocean in
Stolen by her eyes but in the tide is where I'll die again
Begging for the lamb to rip the Devil from my diaphragm
Then I'm back again. Demons double dipping in my dopamine
WHOLE in my chest, you'll leave some soul for me
The morning's unforgiving, she remembers me
She says I'll never change. She always walks away
We had a thing once, I was young and full of love
I accidentally told her when the spirit had my tongue
I can't get up to hold her, my mistakes each weigh a ton
Our opposites are polar now. She just slipped away some how
Why can't I forget her like my Father's pictures? No
At least let me remember who I was when I was with her though
I've never been the average everyday Joe-blow
Fighting for that f*cking lying hoe inside the center fold
I LONG for the live... Alone inside the loony bin
Looking for a friend that has been to any place that I have been
Handshakes are paper thin. Most men are made of tin
We have no common ground. So let's just get faded then
Rip open that sky. Buck that mothaf*ckin' .45
Bang! Motherf*cker die! Sippin' Colt 45
Rip open that sky. Buck that mothaf*ckin' .45
Bang! Motherf*cker die! Sippin' Colt 45
Rip open that sky. BANG that mothaf*ckin' .45
BANG! MOTHERFUCKER DIE! BANG! MOTHERFUCKER DIE
Leather lungs, thick skin, soul is a fire pit
There isn't a bitch that could f*ck with my iron wit
Leather lungs, thick skin, soul is a fire pit
There isn't a bitch that could f*ck with my iron wit
Leather lungs, thick skin, soul is a fire pit
There isn't a bitch that could f*ck with my iron wit
Leather lungs, thick skin, soul is a fire pit
THERE ISN'T A BITCH THAT COULD FUCK WITH MY IRON WIT
E from the L O S T - Rip Open That Sky Lyrics
E from the L O S T - Rip Open That Sky Lyrics
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Section 805
Come on black cap, shirt says Iraq with a C
I'm still rocking Dickies like it's 1993
No... skinny jeans for me. Whatever nigga do your thing
No one hip as me. Time machine on D's
My hip-hop make a blind broad stop to jock
I wear the sun around my neck and it's not over the top
I said Hey Girl, I heard you like the baller rap singers
Why can't you see the seven rings of Saturn on my pinkie finger
Now that's SHINE that you're soaking in
Besides I haven't met a woman that I couldn't hear the ocean in
Stolen by her eyes but in the tide is where I'll die again
Begging for the lamb to rip the Devil from my diaphragm
Then I'm back again. Demons double dipping in my dopamine
WHOLE in my chest, you'll leave some soul for me
The morning's unforgiving, she remembers me
She says I'll never change. She always walks away
We had a thing once, I was young and full of love
I accidentally told her when the spirit had my tongue
I can't get up to hold her, my mistakes each weigh a ton
Our opposites are polar now. She just slipped away some how
Why can't I forget her like my Father's pictures? No
At least let me remember who I was when I was with her though
I've never been the average everyday Joe-blow
Fighting for that f*cking lying hoe inside the center fold
I LONG for the live... Alone inside the loony bin
Looking for a friend that has been to any place that I have been
Handshakes are paper thin. Most men are made of tin
We have no common ground. So let's just get faded then
Rip open that sky. Buck that mothaf*ckin' .45
Bang! Motherf*cker die! Sippin' Colt 45
Rip open that sky. Buck that mothaf*ckin' .45
Bang! Motherf*cker die! Sippin' Colt 45
Rip open that sky. BANG that mothaf*ckin' .45
BANG! MOTHERFUCKER DIE! BANG! MOTHERFUCKER DIE
Leather lungs, thick skin, soul is a fire pit
There isn't a bitch that could f*ck with my iron wit
Leather lungs, thick skin, soul is a fire pit
There isn't a bitch that could f*ck with my iron wit
Leather lungs, thick skin, soul is a fire pit
There isn't a bitch that could f*ck with my iron wit
Leather lungs, thick skin, soul is a fire pit
THERE ISN'T A BITCH THAT COULD FUCK WITH MY IRON WIT
Come on black cap, shirt says Iraq with a C
I'm still rocking Dickies like it's 1993
No... skinny jeans for me. Whatever nigga do your thing
No one hip as me. Time machine on D's
My hip-hop make a blind broad stop to jock
I wear the sun around my neck and it's not over the top
I said Hey Girl, I heard you like the baller rap singers
Why can't you see the seven rings of Saturn on my pinkie finger
Now that's SHINE that you're soaking in
Besides I haven't met a woman that I couldn't hear the ocean in
Stolen by her eyes but in the tide is where I'll die again
Begging for the lamb to rip the Devil from my diaphragm
Then I'm back again. Demons double dipping in my dopamine
WHOLE in my chest, you'll leave some soul for me
The morning's unforgiving, she remembers me
She says I'll never change. She always walks away
We had a thing once, I was young and full of love
I accidentally told her when the spirit had my tongue
I can't get up to hold her, my mistakes each weigh a ton
Our opposites are polar now. She just slipped away some how
Why can't I forget her like my Father's pictures? No
At least let me remember who I was when I was with her though
I've never been the average everyday Joe-blow
Fighting for that f*cking lying hoe inside the center fold
I LONG for the live... Alone inside the loony bin
Looking for a friend that has been to any place that I have been
Handshakes are paper thin. Most men are made of tin
We have no common ground. So let's just get faded then
Rip open that sky. Buck that mothaf*ckin' .45
Bang! Motherf*cker die! Sippin' Colt 45
Rip open that sky. Buck that mothaf*ckin' .45
Bang! Motherf*cker die! Sippin' Colt 45
Rip open that sky. BANG that mothaf*ckin' .45
BANG! MOTHERFUCKER DIE! BANG! MOTHERFUCKER DIE
Leather lungs, thick skin, soul is a fire pit
There isn't a bitch that could f*ck with my iron wit
Leather lungs, thick skin, soul is a fire pit
There isn't a bitch that could f*ck with my iron wit
Leather lungs, thick skin, soul is a fire pit
There isn't a bitch that could f*ck with my iron wit
Leather lungs, thick skin, soul is a fire pit
THERE ISN'T A BITCH THAT COULD FUCK WITH MY IRON WIT
Writer: Ethan Manning
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid