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Paroles de That Guy

Interprète Vincent Rovezzi

Paroles de la chanson That Guy par Vincent Rovezzi lyrics officiel

That Guy est une chanson en Anglais

Ripping a mic at random
Lit it up like a lantern
I’m hyper baby go shit your diaper, I’ll wipe a tantrum
I made the trip but I ain’t equipped with what life demanded
I’m like a cancer I get a grip on devices handed
The devil’s wicked be dancing with me, we’re quite the tandem
Ain’t no romantic the joke is sick that I’m white and handsome
A ransom price is the only digits I might have landed
I’m mostly business, I ghost these bitches more like a phantom
You hype your man up I gotta humble him down
Chicken got him fried he bound to fumble the crown
Wing it think it’s fly like he found it up in the clouds
Please don’t make be that guy and go run your mumbling mouth
Now

Please

Don’t make me do it to ‘em

[I’d really hate to be that guy]

Please


Don’t make me do it to ‘em

Oh no

I gotta do it to ‘em

Huh

Huh

That’s what we talking like
I ain’t argue, I’m saying dog you’re right
I ain’t bothered, you’d rather bark than bite
I got the shit in the bag
Two different a walks of life
But tonight
Oh you in for a treat
For my next trick, I get you to sit and to speak
Ask the skeptics what they ever did on a beat
I give beginners little tips like the dinner was cheap
I print a receipt
I’m finished with beef
Leaving like my mission complete
By the skin of my teeth
Like winning the league, barely clinching a seed, the distance between me and Hakeem living the dream
Heightened
Inches and feet
Siphoned minutes of sleep
I’m paying the grim reaper 3 visits a week
Maybe what they say I can’t achieve ain’t that big of leap
No image to keep, the glimpses are brief, I rinse and repeat, twice
It’s ugly, get me paper bag
It gets ugly, don’t wanna make him mad
Ain’t the money, that got him breaking bad
He’s taking cabs to vacant labs and spazzing when they make him rap
That guy is fiend
He don’t even drive he just ride for the team
Then we wonder why he’s as high as a beam
Triple vibe multiplier, the rhyming machine
Now listen here you needle dick
Go eat a dick
A pack of peppers Peter picked
And read the room I’m
Leaving quick
To lead the troops
And beat a stick
I’m Beetlejuice
You need a flick
To see the proof
My demon’s loose the weed and liquor’s sweet and sick
Can’t recoup if you out of the loop
Let ‘em think I’m stupid, ain’t part of the group
And every time they wanna ask why
Ima tell them motherfuckers ‘cause I’m that guy


Him

That one

That guy
Droits parole : paroles officielles sous licence Lyricfind respectant le droit d'auteur.
Reproduction des paroles interdite sans autorisation.

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