The Mic
• Written by Reaper
I ain't hear sorry.
Man I'm in a hurry.
Youtes saying what they don't mean.
They scared of me like halloween.
I can see they ain't with the dream.
They being restless.
So me I'm being rebellious.
Until success comes nothings never the way it seems.
I'm the sheep living with wolves.
I don't mean to preach, but I'm never something brief.
That's impecable.
You get it, I'm incredible.
I'm looking in the mirror.
Unfamiliar eyes scoping my back.
Tracking my achilles heel.
Bitches say they know how I feel.
I just wanna be me, I just wanna chill.
Many radha dahing with me, we're inseparable.
Somehow I'm trill, guess I wasn't back then.
The whole be my friend, is uncomfortable.
The mic, gimme the mic.
Let me hold it like a trophy.
The mic, gimme the mic.
Give it to the OG.
Rich when I was little.
Riches to rags that's the circumstance
Started over all again.
Fam needed better friends.
Collected less of them.
The cycle gotta end.
Why should I pretend?
I'm never being fake.
If I dislike you I'll treat you corgail boo.
But fools always persistent.
For my elated condition.
I'll give them credits.
I wanna laugh when it's getting crazy.
Act lackadaisy.
I said wait, let me get the bait.
Plotting breakaways a mile away.
I was gonna get it anyways.
I was always the plug.
Always hot like a firebug.
The mic, gimme the mic.
Let me hold it like a trophy.
The mic, gimme the mic.
Give it to the OG.
Feedback & Comments
About the Artist
Reaper
Member since November 26 2013