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Songs | Albums | Album Arts
Song: | K.A.A.N. - Judas Issacariot |
Album: | Vivid Canvas | Genres: | |
Year: | | Length: | 185 sec |
Lyricist: K.A.A.N.
Lyrics:
[Verse] Oh shit nigga here we go again, I need to get in contact with my doctor I got voices in my head and my mind keeps spinning like propellers on a fucking helicopter This suspicious blood is ridiculous, cause everything a nigga give is conspicuous From my sense of security fell to obscurity Yelling obscenities, this is absurdity Lyrical entity, envy thy enemies Empty this clip till they trip off the remedy Sing with this melody, my flow is heavenly Demons in my soul are constantly tempting me Living in misery, learning humility, spitting a plan clutching a rosary All that I wrote is to sanctify savagery Pain and some agony, death and disparity Clearly I need to get my motherfucking medication in my motherfucking system real quick I'm more columbine, with 12 concubines I got concrete rhymes that'll blow a nigga mind Shakespearean the way that I construct it Call it Al Jazeera like it's mass destruction I've come way too far with this Alhamdulilah And my belief in God has been cracked with a flaw As I thumb through these chapters, this blasphemous baptist I'm stuck in a nightmare that you can't imagine I'm sick of my pastor he's preaching salvation, just bury me deep so I'm resting in peace I eternally sleep with bouquets of carnations Roses and posies and blood colored daisies Mutilating my wrist going through phases Nobody noticed that shit was amazing Bitch I'm bipolar and borderline crazy My father don't care, I swear that nigga hate me Now look what the fuck you done done to your baby I guess that I'm everything that nigga made me I am what I am, what I am is a shame The fact that I'm bearing this family name Realizing my father and I are the same See these apples you birthed they fall far from the tree Now Chris rolled a blunt at the age of fifteen And Kevin's a dick, a literal prick I hope that you die you son of a bitch I would give you the shirt off my back if you ask When I got on that roof and I busted my ass And the day that I quit you just pointed and laughed Now you forty years old and you broke with no cash I refuse to put limits on things that I have But my life ain't defined by the things that I want 'Cause I wanted to kill you I ain't gonna front But see then my nephews wouldn't have them a father Consequences of my family drama Fuck that, ain't no more lines being dedicated to these motherfuckers I hate That refuse to acknowledge calamities caused that I'm dealing with everyday okayyy Now a nigga 'bout to get technical I'm more mythical, spitting a pristine vow I'm like Tyson my vices are killing me slowly I'll burn all my bridges in this allegory Disgusted by lack of compassion to man The root of this evil is seated in wealth Won't do for another what you do for self I'm not writing no rhymes bitch I'm crying for help, AH!
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