Stu Bangas - Workahol lyrics

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Stu Bangas - Workahol lyrics

I'm a pills em ex a make a marker (?) What don't k** ya said to make ya stronger Hesitation now, it only takes ya longer (x2) I'm a workaholic and an alcoholic Sniffin work to rock it whatever works I'm on it (x2) Mary Mary with a marijuana garden how did it grow Snow, white might powder her nose, but we outta the dough Forget the keys I didn't sniff em, gettin money from the ATM The screen said withdraw, damn, how did it know, ow.. Now with the flows been known to render cowards powerless So, it's in with the new and out with the old And I don't wanna get any bigger the undergrounds cool to me Your a fool to me, sold out for a little bit better j**elry But ain't nothin like a little old school to me I managed to move ahead of the amateurs Plans to maneuver, Tyler the Creator sound man, I'm Amped for the future Hands to salute ya No hands to sh-sh-shoot ya sh**, damn I just missed ya Took them Xanax I'm stupid I'm up here with Duff beer and large pimpin Ashin off my cigar in yalls kitchen Ya mom blue top, like Marge Simpson Man, are yall kiddin, y'all the f**in competition I thought yall was just nothin, I'd stomp to get a rhythm.... (Hook x2) Man f** what y'all said I'm hard hit the blunts, that I I fell oh well Blunt on each end of the circle laughin LOL (????) facin counter clockwise It's amazin how I stop time round bout 5 Then spit up in a Sheriff's face and gouge a cop's eye I need to stop, drop and roll through the house Your on fir, but your labels ga**in you, and it won't put you out And me? I'm the go to guy with a flow to fly, go to skies when I vocalize smoking, smoking by, not smoking signs but I'm smoking nines You're smokin a blunt your with friends I'm by myself smoking mine, choking I hope he's fine, no I broke my spine all the time It's only natural, homey, catch when I throw these at you And I don't need math to carry the nine and go subtract you (Pete, what's with all the gun talk that I hear?) I just do what the beats tellin me to do - I talk to the snare Them yamps with fake implants, I make them damp When they call they reach the voicemail box like a trachea implant (Hook)x2 I remember a time before my city had a scene Back when we took back and dream bout be in a rap magazine It had to be, oh, I say circa '93 an egotistical prick that no one circumcised me We were hurtin guys dreams With a virgin rhyme scheme So MhZ beside me And that's the birth of my scene Before that Columbus had no international acts So we spectate who shat on the map as an actual fact And the vibe broke history of hip hop it's written Been documented so the guys who spittin lies to check if its Copy writen But we all contribute Blueprint, (names of Columbus rappers) prism Illogic, Thought Sessions, If I forget to get em I got em in the next song I'm pinnin That old egos non-existent Now I'm on a mission to unify ever squad that's rippin Used to be on that bullsh**, it was wrong, dog, right I know But, man, seems to be such a long long time ago... (Hook)

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