Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song MansSin, artist - Bishop Nehru. Date of issue: 03.02.2023
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
MansSin |
| Man’s sin got a manic in still panic |
| Chills with hand while bills vanish in the hills |
| Focused on skill but still need krills for thrills |
| Cause Mama’s bills are only making her ill |
| Living with an ordeal the medical field can’t heal |
| And niggas wonder why I strive for a deal |
| For real you don’t feel me like ills in conceit |
| So Please leave the pleas I got D’s to complete |
| I got them calling on the weight lift |
| Ball hit your chest you can’t take it |
| Like this ain’t some shit to play with |
| From slave ships to shipping |
| Out pages of the black man’s greatest tell them |
| Black control the wave like the moon enter stages |
| Beyond being the pen by buckshot’s they duck low |
| Carry flow artificially like apple duck so |
| I just stay acting while the bust pipes the pressures on |
| Try to say it’s nice, twice ass forever gone |
| Remorse for what? |
| You people have done everything in the world to me |
| Doesn’t that give me equal right? |
| I can do anything I want to you people |
| And anytime I want to because that’s what you’ve done to me |
| If you spit in my face and smack me in the mouth |
| And throw me in solitary confinement for nothing what do you think (fades aways) |
| Through time the mind travels |
| Fucking with these punchlines You’ll find gravel |
| Deep in the pits of hell it gets sweaty |
| Be burned or drop funk heavy, every line get a plus |
| Like Chevy you can tell by the grill |
| Crack a smile the cook up is real |
| They still over looking, fuck it |
| Let’s get out these dreams through the mic |
| And hit the lotto like book em' |
| These niggas skating nice try to book em' |
| But he knows the pages like the finger tip and flip it |
| Proceed to spit the writtens niggas can’t predict my diction |
| Click the pause rewind and listen it’s missing your disses |
| I ain’t wasting time there’s greatness in the distance |
| These nigges spitting waste shit |
| Dirtiest cops that take kids and put them in their early grave |
| No mistake no remorse on his face straight hate can’t learn to love us power of |
| refine they only love her they ain’t even undercover |
| But my people in there slumber |
| I’m sick of man sin it’s wearing me thin |
| So bearing the pen is the only apparent care that’s with in |
| Written in winds like Witten getting them tight to the end |
| The titan eyes will remember till he’s in |
| He’s grave with the spin |
| Even then i’ll underestimate |
| Through my celebration take place to praise him |
| And I separate from the fake scum |
| Fuck a play son these snake niggas nowadays will take crumbs |
| It’s cake to sum and that sum means all |
| So whether a biggie or a small |
| If a pennies involved then the problem gets solved |
| Because looking soft is awful |
| It’s all full and I’m full |
| Ussually I’m on E and i’m needing to pull |
| Got my toes in deep now I creep and I eat with the wolves |
| And still I keep peace and deliver to the sheep |
| Cause you sow what you reap and the loot must repeat |
| I haven’t done enough I might be ashamed of that |
| For not doing enough for not giving enough |
| For not being more perceptive for not being aware enough |
| For not understanding |