Demeanor lyrics


Vic Spencer

Is this
I’m up that mother f*ckers

I came up out my mommas coochie strapped, doobie wrapped
Fresh pair of nudies with the Louie patch (Fresh)
Passenger side of a beamer, demeanor on ten
All of my jet fuel is gone in the wind
Mixing the moon rock, n*ggas get tube socked for f*cking with me
I know my sh*t hard, I don’t care about your feelings
I don’t care about our status and the way you rap is terrible
There he go dissing on rappers again, pass me gin
n*gga bumpy face don’t even comе this way, I’ll levitate
Segrеgate me from all y’all I lost extra weight
Meditate, I really need it
I keep reading, but naïve to a whole lot of sh*t
Like if my chick cheating
I got my own demons, before I go on the deep end
I talk to myself on how I need friends (sh*t)
I’m kind of off my focus (Uh)
I love my brother Charlie [?] (Charlie)
Rap became one of my biggest hobbies
Everytie I rap I get sicker probably (Ill)
Every other night I keep having dreams of killing bigger Nazis
The taller they are the harder they fall
I’m off Strawberry call [?]
f*ck off that wack ass cliché
Black history month coming up and we not celebrating February 18th
That’s President’s Day, we loading up the AKs
Rolling up the KK ride dirty on the eight-trey
Stay to the lake with it
I was up North for a while
I was a child, a juvenile, I got down to business
Big blunts in small closets
This was back then when n*ggas had enough money to smoke profit
At the same time I made time for killing beats
Feeling chic, blowing on Charlie Sheen, they really weak
I look at rappers like landmines
I dodge them in my Calabasas (Yeah)
Way back when I was flashy I wore Jordan with the Kangols
Airforce Ones the same color of a mango
Five times a day change clothes go ahead rearrange flows
While you at it dammit
Whole bunch of decks of cards like I’m a f*cking gambit
Still rock a trenchcoat
I walk up in the place like I been broke
Come out of the restroom Don [?] withs the [?]
They hate Vic, that mean I can’t say that I ain’t sh*t
But I really am the sh*t
I can take who you came with
She rock denim right
Grab her buns she was a genotype (Baby)
Bag her up like groceries, my demeanor nice (Baby)
Back to the f*cking rappers (Enough of rappers)
Y’all daydream of touching rappers (Ew)
This why I stay away
I do it so I can come back like layaway
Still don’t get mega plays
Y’all n*ggas considered feather-weight
V-I-C having batter days mother f-

Man that’s enough Vic
sh*t that you on been kicking kinda lately
Kinda ill
Last few times you was in this mother f*cker was kinda nuts
sh*t you been doing kinda lately, kinda funky
Some kind of sh*t
There gon’ be more type of sh*t like that or what my n*gga
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