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• Artiste: Harry Fraud
• Titre: Sunday
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featuring Adrian Lau and Eddie B (Verse) I’m on a heavy guap search, fox furs, lobster Ambitions of a mobster inspired by a pop verse Thoughts like clockwork orange in the dark search Sharp nerves to my brain and boy, am I a lot worse. Drugs, they apparently want us to stop, Carping out part, what the therapist thought it. But it’s cool, cause the school and the parents support him, So we took a silver spoon and cook some heroine on ‘em. Sky’s the limit, but that’s life after death, To then we’re just some blind mice in the labyrinth. They wonder what’s the smell, that’s the Cali’ stench, Cause I be twisting Ls like the Ellen lounge. I don’t really give a fuck now, I roll when down been off now, Yo, I’m on the ground, I’m thinking background Cause I like one soon as I touch down My room throwing up with kush clouds, I’m so wasteful, can’t get enough pounds, Smoking one off uptown in the bus round And I’m zooded, still I continue to roll it Less connection with the world, more connection with the soul. More direction, leading the conception of the poem, Such perfection, settle for no less that I’m owed Sorry, karma, I mean, I’m sorry, mama, I mean, I’m sorry father, almighty, don’t bother I got an Old Bible in my living room, parler I address it As soon that shawty say that she don’t wanna swallow. I mean Puffing on the shorm stick, watching how the stone flick, Keep the chronic burning but burning just like a furnace. Mama said I’m worthless cause I purchase too much angel dust I don’t give a fuck, cause all I wanna do is take a puff. Save enough for later alligator, you know imma feed If I get dehydrated I’ll stuck it and imma mean Up upon the scene with my team before my time is up It’s a guarantee that Eddie B will Amy Winehouse Don’t raise your eyebrows, you know I’m a basket case, If I don’t get a quick fix imma smash your face. Moving out a faster phase, you rappers can’t keep up with me, I’m sniffing something white while you be sipping on a bubba leaf. Buzzing like a bumble-bee, I’m higher, so you’re under me The brain is full with fuckery, that lame on living comfortably. It’s utterly ridiculous, but imma stay articulate, Meticulous, playing with your bitch little clitoris. How ill is this, everything I touch turns to extasy, Dope roll speed is the motherfucking recipe. The rest MC, Eddie B will take you to the maximum, And if they’ve got a problem imma have to shove it acinoum. Asking them why you starting drama with a veteran I wrote he’s been intelligent, grow up and take your medicine. Your marijuana’s Mexican, I rather pop some masculine.