This is about bronies. They communicate by stomping.
This year, I'm really trying to be a better person
Flipped out of my hearse
Now I'm back to dungeons flipping verses
I hope the Dutch burns slowly
When I puff I hope it hurt me
I know my words start slurring when I'm drinking Gnac in coney
Mister double back standing very closely like you know me
I'm Oni with with the horns I'm blowing notes when I get lonely
And when my phone ring it's what do you fucking want from me
I'm on my own, I'm on my own
Inside I feel nothing
I'm in the ocean feel emotionless like stones eroding
I used to open up now I struggle to see the point is
I don't know what's wrong
Honestly I'm over it
Money just an object
With it I got options
Might adopt an octet
Think about this often
Reason you ain't popped yet
Inside of your coffin
Staring a locket homie what's the problem
With a gun to my head and with sissy pushing a cart
I put my heart to its failures
Revisit when the sun go dark
Panels of trains, carry my dead friends names as art
Jazz standards played the vein
Death pamper a monarch
Pay it back and pay it forward to start
Sounds like success live in the language
Ancient anguish's remark
On God, God owe me less than that room
Space for forgiveness in grace
Retrace my business to toothpaste and tunes
Merrily singing songs of fate, fuck, punk fake fool
Duck a jake or two to feel safe when I make a move
I'm just an addict with his vices on its leash
It's my niche, sending kites on papyrus
I write this for the violence and deceased
We was where the tyrants get theirs
Til the pirates intrigued
Now we are right here
Among the powers and flowers of peace
Dog we just those doods rapping and laughing
Yal those boo-boos cappin' and trashin', your own friends
Who love life but you hate yours
What happened dappin'
Fashion forward fuckos can suck this dick in Latin with no ends
On God
Flipped out of my hearse
Now I'm back to dungeons flipping verses
I hope the Dutch burns slowly
When I puff I hope it hurt me
I know my words start slurring when I'm drinking Gnac in coney
Mister double back standing very closely like you know me
I'm Oni with with the horns I'm blowing notes when I get lonely
And when my phone ring it's what do you fucking want from me
I'm on my own, I'm on my own
Inside I feel nothing
I'm in the ocean feel emotionless like stones eroding
I used to open up now I struggle to see the point is
I don't know what's wrong
Honestly I'm over it
Money just an object
With it I got options
Might adopt an octet
Think about this often
Reason you ain't popped yet
Inside of your coffin
Staring a locket homie what's the problem
With a gun to my head and with sissy pushing a cart
I put my heart to its failures
Revisit when the sun go dark
Panels of trains, carry my dead friends names as art
Jazz standards played the vein
Death pamper a monarch
Pay it back and pay it forward to start
Sounds like success live in the language
Ancient anguish's remark
On God, God owe me less than that room
Space for forgiveness in grace
Retrace my business to toothpaste and tunes
Merrily singing songs of fate, fuck, punk fake fool
Duck a jake or two to feel safe when I make a move
I'm just an addict with his vices on its leash
It's my niche, sending kites on papyrus
I write this for the violence and deceased
We was where the tyrants get theirs
Til the pirates intrigued
Now we are right here
Among the powers and flowers of peace
Dog we just those doods rapping and laughing
Yal those boo-boos cappin' and trashin', your own friends
Who love life but you hate yours
What happened dappin'
Fashion forward fuckos can suck this dick in Latin with no ends
On God
Lyrics submitted by SongMeanings
HERMIT (feat. Eddie Branch) Lyrics as written by Brenton Gomez Adam Haug
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid
Lyrics powered by LyricFind
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@[Diderik:33655] "Your a holiday!" Was a popular term used in the 50s/60s to compliment someone on their all around. For example, not only are they beautiful, but they are fun and kind too ... just an all around "holiday".
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