Yo L I think they got a problem. I think I got a problem. A fucking alcohol problem. Yeah.
I ain’t on some outer space shit, on some out of place shit On some dollar and a dream, penny in a hideaway shit Basically case is persuasively being made The game has been stagnant, no faces are being changed Rearranged saying he’s insane is an understatement I ain’t the boss really, I’m working under Satan I’m just playing around but you’ve begun to hating So what you want a verse from me, I got one to take it Nowadays everybody’s on my dick People either love me or they hate me quick It’s almost like there’s nothing I can safely say Cause they recognise my voice like I’m Macy Gray Hey, let me get this shit straight, I don’t ever spit hate I ain’t racially charged just because my mixtape’s name Is the White Man Is The Devil by Slaine When I say the white man I’m referring to ‘caine At the same time talking about the shit that I’m saying And the circumstances that I gotta live everyday And I got to work with chances hoping that it might pan out But it seems like they’re trying to keep this white man out but
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I heard you got a problem with everything I do Everything I say every fucking day I think you got a problem acting this way Rapping this way, fuck em anyway
You should not involve em Watch what you say, you should just forget what you see Cause you don’t want a problem Oh you gonna have a problem, you gonna have a problem with me
I guess I represent a lifestyle the Bible Belt don’t like now I’m opposed to these people in the White House The whole administration, I’m just a menace to them I make offensive music about criminals and drug abusers They looking down upon us labelling us thugs and losers That’s the authority always trying to judge who you is But only God can judge me, I’m not a role model My body’s not drug-free, I drink a whole bottle Hit the gas full throttle in an old automobile That goes fast with some hoes I know that you know swallow I am no model citizen Fat fuck and ugly as I ever been, my venom will never end My struggle is evidence by my lack of presidents Where they say I act like the blackest residents Because I pack heaters and I stack amphetamines This is your world, this shit is full of crack, Americans It ain’t a black thing or a white thing Or a rap thing, it’s just a fight thing And everyday is full of sickness, addiction and crime That’s why I spit the kind of shit, the kind that sticks in your mind
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Yo Slaine I feel the same pain (Larry I know you do) It is a whole gang of drama I’ve been going through You know the money blue, streets full of funny dudes If I get to stressing there’s no question what I’m gonna do What I’m gonna do is make a nigga run his jewels Pop in the clip and make him strip right in front of you Yeah, I’m on the strip with the blunt and brew Quarter past two where them dicks keep coming through Three dip creeping in their Taurus dark blue Boston we bust em for fifteen to twenty-two Have you ever seen a wild nigga wave a gun at you? Pistol whip someone in front of you? C’mon I’m from where spots get hotter than the middle of the summer do Niggas get bodied on the blocks where they hung in groups This sounds strange like the pains in my stomach do There’s boatloads of niggas trying to eat, man I’m hungry too