Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Angels & Demons, artist - Locksmith.
Date of issue: 29.04.2021
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Angels & Demons |
Bitch, don’t even mention |
If y’all go talk to God, tell him steer my intuition |
Fuck y’all really gon' say? |
Tell me I got a condition? |
Niggas can’t hit what they can’t see |
I’ma stay low to the street while I get my money |
Yeah, tell 'em pray for me, bitch don’t even mention |
If y’all go talk to God, tell him steer my intuition |
Fuck y’all really gon' say? |
Tell me I got a condition? |
Niggas can’t hit what they can’t see |
I’ma stay low to the street while I get my money |
What is the definition of real now? |
Is it determined on what you earned or you bill now? |
Has it been predicated? |
The people that’s dedicated to dumbin' the demograph are half of the, |
like (woof) |
Look at what I rose from |
What do you expect when livin' under your own thumb? |
How do you progress when you left in a lurch and they left you inert |
So you search for your own drum? |
But I come from a place where the space was cramped |
I was raised in the wastes, I don’t wait for stamps |
Of approval, my removal mutes you |
So I move at a pace that elates my camp |
I was canvassin', what I imagined then |
Was a safehouse, now I come back with them |
I don’t chase clout, that is an act of sin |
I reenact what is fact to refract within |
If I adapt to them, then my edge is gone |
There’s a very thin line when the ledge is drawn |
There was various times where they egged me on |
But still the wounds from the past are what kept me calm |
Bitch, don’t even mention |
If y’all go talk to God, tell him steer my intuition |
Fuck y’all really gon' say? |
Tell me I got a condition? |
Niggas can’t hit what they can’t see |
I’ma stay low to the street while I get my money |
Yeah, tell 'em pray for me, bitch don’t even mention |
If y’all go talk to God, tell him steer my intuition |
Fuck y’all really gon' say? |
Tell me I got a condition? |
Niggas can’t hit what they can’t see |
I’ma stay low to the street while I get my money |
What are you niggas really afraid of? |
What are you benefittin' by livin' to a pay stub? |
How is it beneficial, in prison, the inner issues of people who went to diss |
you repent, but it’s fake love? |
But a horror and what you didn’t involve 'em in |
I been holdin' the psalm and then I been watchin' you bark his accomplishments |
'Cause you’re a falsehood, just a |
A sunk ark in the hearts of men |
If you walk then your remarks are a barker bitch mark |
The start’s where you faltered in |
Every bar is a barge into Barça |
I know to roll between a goal was far-fetched |
But I’m frowned upon, I found the pawns around, upon |
The large fish, underground, but strong |
Self-doubt was the route that the shouts would spawn |
Fuck jealous comments and the couch you on |
You were never an adversary, don’t have me go have you carried |
Away, the way you niggas ride is imaginary |
Don’t have me get to clappin' at your capillaries |
You rappers are rather bitch-made, I will have 'em buried |
I just wanna be myself, respect for my reflection when I see myself |
It’s a blessin', through the music, I could feed myself |
And give a message to the folks that said they need my help |
Look, I will never let down anybody I’m a leader to |
Follow every word and take a look at where I’m leadin' you |
Never idolize, I just hope your eyes recognize |
Everything you see in me, I see in you |
Brain food, look how good I’m feedin' you |
Road to success, there’s a highway to hell, yeah, a scenic route |
So my intuition got to tellin' me that bein' on the television ain’t the |
validation that I need from you |
Lookin' at my younger self, hopin' I would make it |
Prayin' that I got a chance, if I did, I would take it |
Confusin' bein' high on self with elevation |
Confusin' bein' dead inside with dedication |
I would never trade grace for fame, my faith remains |
The Devil’s works or God’s blessings? |
Pepsi, Coke? |
They look the same, they both is sweet |
But in the end, they don’t taste the same, so choose one |
Bitch, don’t even mention |
If y’all go talk to God, tell him steer my intuition |
Fuck y’all really gon' say? |
Tell me I got a condition? |
Niggas can’t hit what they can’t see |
I’ma stay low to the street while I get my money |
Yeah, tell 'em pray for me, bitch don’t even mention |
If y’all go talk to God, tell him steer my intuition |
Fuck y’all really gon' say? |
Tell me I got a condition? |
Niggas can’t hit what they can’t see |
I’ma stay low to the street while I get my money |