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3:29

Lounge Session

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[Lyrics]
This beat is just for me, I don’t do it for your peeps
And it’s so damn raw, I need soda pop
And if you’re going to pop, don’t hold it back, come on
Yeah, I am so raw, I’m so depressed, can’t fix me yeah
I’m Alex D, AD and Klash, I go by several names
But they give me several pain
Yeah Sarah Palin, why are you running? You can’t hide anything
Yeah, you got no legs, I cut ‘em off, so why you try, ok?
Why are you even movin’? I thought I already shoot ya
I’m cryin’ here, tears are on my face, a waterfall
On my neck, on my torso
You don’t know the pain that I felt
I can’t estrange it from myself
Indict, extradite, extra white
Extra guys don’t wanna be me because I beat me every single night
You don’t know I put words just to rhyme, and I might lie
And I might say something that is not true just to get it popping off
To you, screw, ooh
I am the mister magic
Everything that I do is with a wand
And I swaap it, swand it, swat it, swap it
Everything you do is wrong shit, all it is
He’s gonna be hooting
I’m a bad boy, man, I’m fat as hell
So damn Asian, that is real
My voice is so husky, fuck me, girl
If you don’t like my style, just turn it off
And if you wanna be just turned on, guy–get your grind on, girl–get your guy on
And you know that it’s real and it’s unfair shit
Living in America, just suck my eh
If you don’t censor that shit by yourself
You know that record company will do that thing
‘cause they got motherfuckers who got nothing to do but to turn the dial
Or slow down or put the bleep on when your speech on
‘cause they don’t like the motherfucking thing that you was saying
Like I just said I got too much damn swearing
And if you swerve in or out, make sure your car’s got extra power
Extra horse under the engine Hemi
If you hem the thing, you don’t know how to sew a thing
Like I took mine to the dry cleaners
They made it longer instead of shorter like I told ‘em to do
I’m going off on tangents, my rhymes don’t make sense
I can’t even rhyme things
I wasn’t black, I didn’t grow up poor, so up yours
Up doors and knock down doors ’til I get three downed doors
3 Doors Down, “Kryptonite”
Shit, you don’t, you cannot write
Hold it, beasties get me, hit me
I’m a beastie, I get this like beasts be
Hit me up with another track
I get so much bad
And what comes to me, unfair, un-you
Undo un-cunts, you can’t do the do, I am country move
I got so much shit upon my looting
You couldn’t take that from me, then funk me
Kill me, until I’m a dead meat
There’s nothing wrong with my playa
So I’m a paranoid that I say a
There’s water on my motherfucking mp3 player
Or cd player or an iPod player
Whatever, I am not a playa
If you don’t like me then just stop a playa
Stop this player, put the stop on button
Put the play off and put it off for another day or crush that shit
I’m at the end, suck my
Was I just saying that?
I just sure did, I’m done

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