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crym - talkin lyrics
[verse 1: crym]
rolling up hawaiian no lying the odor that of papaya
grown on an island with the ultimate climate
supply in bulk once i tried it won’t sacrifice like a mayan
hit my device then i’m flying, you may address me your highness
i believe in sativa cover my head like a kippah
you know i bees like akeelah b-tch i’m quicker than a cheetah
my adidas are nubuck, i do not give two f-cks
smooch on these two nuts, i’m short as a crew cut
a little bit screwed up, 25 in my mucus
moved weight on the schoolbus, i’m sicker than lupus
dissociated off salvia divinorum
the wax and oil lasting 8 days in the menorah
i’m deplorable, downright horrible
selling rob ford out the accord, thinking portable
unstable rocking seven in my orbital
d-mn, what is this? cinnamon, citrus, ahh
[verse 2: crym]
flow like the first snowfall, i thought i told y’all
d-ck so long shorty had to do a pole vault
i want the hyura in cobalt, the phantom diamond black
hold no bars, no holds barred when i attack
lying back, kiss the silicone tip of bliss
drift into silent reverie every method since
is simply unsatisfactory, chill at the top rung
whipping unreasonable vehicles, shorty sit shotgun
ain’t n0body like this, comparable in whiteness
when i’m on my night shift, give a ho the nightstick
baby got them tight lips, mata hari body though
bodying you maricons and imma keep the cambio
smoking amber crayons, ghosting like a seance
drowning in a cloud of loud, say h-llo to shaytan
in the daytime, mild mannered though the name crym
canine, danger, junkies may try to mainline
[verse 3: crym]
beats in my email, bud on the weed scale
when you see me hail, looking rugged in retail
blood on the leaves ’til the acid rain wash
and it stain blocks, no these bulges in my pants ain’t glocks
ain’t got a maybach, but i can make your dame drop
her panties, she had a grammy, but i ain’t gon’ name drop
the game got more gods in it nowadays than the pantheon
they should probably pop an entire bottle of ambien
have em scampering, shatter for dias like cameron
strand these motherf-ckers in the middle of the labyrinth
my eyes are bloodshot, ’cause why the f-ck not?
lethal to feeble people, i’m equal to blood clots
you glorious like a truck stop, meaning you suck c-ck
more funk doc than punk rock, profile like a mugshot
i leave my door unlocked in case somebody wanna try
toking on that homicide, motherf-ckers harmonize
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