Tuesday, October 18, 2016

AB-SOUL The End Is Near

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AB-SOUL The End Is Near Lyrics, singer by AB-SOUL

[Verse 1: Ab-Soul]
Yo, check � my flow is unknown to man yet
Damnit � keep runnin� �round like an annual banquet
Made a withdrawal with your broad, she left the bank wet
Rub her like a condom, contemplating dangerous sex
I�m unimpressed with your talent, skills still appeal
A maestro on the mic, though, I�m almost as ill as Camille, for real
Ain�t never runnin� from nothin�, I�m fit to tread mills
Name another movement making time stand still�
High-powered to the third degree
Murder, we emerged, and it was an emergency
It�s closed curtains for you worthless earthlings
Hurtin� �cause I rise like mercury in the burning heat
Words on the streets, Solo done done it again
Look at me, I used to match a dub sack with my friends
Now we smokin� by the O, like the letters P and N
Ain�t have to start watching CNN for you to see an end
It�s coming quicker than you think, don�t mean to rub it in
Like Lubriderm, but you should learn that you could never fuck with him
Abs gettin� bigger, but I ain�t do no sit-ups
Got the hiccups, �cause I keep puffin� �Ports without the filter
Feel the vibe switch in every single room that I enter
Told my bitch to make room for a tomb for her placenta, nigga
I�ll fuck her �til she have a seizure in my leisure time
She know I love her, also know I don�t need her
�Cause I�m a king, and I smoke a lot of weed
That makes sense, it�s about 33 ounces in a litre
In layman�s terms, you lames had better pay respect
Or you�ll be sleepin�, they�ll be at your wake, payin� their respects

[Verse 2: Mac Miller]
Said it�s the soul cold wickedness � old folk killin� shit
Most Dope syndicate, the Go Pro�s filming it
Good coke, sniffin� shit � broke, no benefits
Smack him in his face and then I�m blowin� smoke into it
Obliterated on a big estate, shit�
I figure fame is just a bitch�s game
That�s why there�s raindrops drippin� off my windowpane
And I was gettin� money far before the fiscal game
Official names, got plugs like a new strain does
You may be hot inside your city, but homie you ain�t us
You can�t trust nothin� if it�s comin� with a dollar sign
It�s genius coming from out of my awkward mind
Cross the line? It�s just not the time
And he ain�t thinkin�, put that red dot on his mind
I�m Satana�s bandana, against me, you don�t stand a chance
Call you fancy pants, �cause when you drunk, you do the hammer dance
If there�s a random chance you fuckin� up my Phantom plans
I�mma go bananas and blam �em until the ambulance
My mother�s sonogram was like a mission statement
�Cause I wasn�t patient, left that pussy in a spaceship
Y�all fools basic, your parents both racist
I�m lawyering these hoes out here, beating cases
She eatin� dick, so she plead the Fifth
Yeah, it�s Larry Fish, homie, he�s a myth
You sunk my battleship, I be in Nazareth �bout where Jesus lived
And your homie with you, he�s a bitch, some vagina shit
Gettin� faded, go sing in Vegas
I�m just observing, a man of different faces
Yup, some dick licker want my kids in her
She a switch hitter, told her bring a bitch with her
The dick split her like a Swisher then I�m outtie� outtie
I never eat the pussy if it�s lousy� lousy
I�m the prodigal son, the ominous Nostradamus
Anonymous visions, confidant, some Obama shit
In moccasins, takin� Annie� alright�

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