Pierre Ma**é - DEAD AMERICANA POETRY lyrics

OGB Mishka fitted royalty Black bandana Dead Americana Poetry Post-trap purgatory $ud $ale, no degrees Ice cold, January, February, legendary March... Push a bu*ton and the Chevy starts... Jo Rock Slow motion, 6's on the box Kizzo still twistin' swisha's, still mississippin' on the rocks... Been livin' now we trillin' every single day we biddin large... Bars from a generation ready-made, hate us for the f** we wasn't giving winning eur'day Hate for the fact I'm not an english motherf**er, j'pas un french motherf**er... I'm a dead motherf**er son! Never gave a sh**, never did, bet i never will, cause a n***a ill, so we deal, just a little bit... Longer for I conquer this addiction, your condition my perdition: gold & b**hes Walking like Egyptian, Pharaohs versus any form of modern superstitions... HD, New edition, Super-villain, Third eye, New religion (New ambition) (Chevy ride) (3 eyes) (Superficial) What it do? Air Forces 92, coming through, done runnin youngin's on they upcoming