Song: For The Haters
Artist:  Ecmd Feeky
Year: 2019
Viewed: 29 - Published at: 5 years ago

VERSE 1 (Ecmd Feeky) :
Ungh, Camden, east side
Look check the flow though
Ecmd Feeky, let's go
Crazy flow spend crazy dough and get mo'
Shout out to my bro Mo
Not a human being no homo
Sapien beam up sabaean
Big head nigga like Fabian
Leave you for the worst like Adrian or Ryan
Hit you with them shots go up top Kobe Bryant
Brains on shirt get murked no lying
No effort no trying
We the best, but no DJ Khaled
More likely to steal the DJ's wallet
My team stay wilding, stay styling
Groupies call 'em back it's not a promise
Pockets keep a lot of dollars
Burn more green than a forest
Subculture invasion
See I born this through the knowledgе
Get more top for the brain likе a college
All alone in this, like an island
Certified G to the death of me
Robbing your persona with that forty-five llama
Lambs in wolf skin
I see through your personification
One shot kill for the veal
Hell's waiting
Sell your mind body soul, close the deal for the taking
Heaven in the making
Mask on Crystal Lake knife and I'm Jason
Mike Myers, all about that ice and the cream like Briars
Akh got the golden touch call me King Mitis
Nigga I'm the highest, flying bird
That's my word, fall to be raised once again on this Earth
Can't hear what is unheard
So hot give these other niggas sun burn
Gun burn like ungh ungh don't touch that
I'm so hot I melt the tires on your hub caps
Get scorched by this torch that I carry
This business I'ma marry and screw her 'til she carry
My seeds nigga please
I'm the whistle in the breeze
The fallen leaves off an autumn tree
Been fresh in the mind every since the Lord thought of me
Step into my hue, walk a mile in my Nike boots
Scar on my heart, soul in the dark
We don't bleed the same
I bleed blue feel my pain
The prequel to the Renaissance sequel
If I see 'em then I got 'em
Then I X 'em like Malcom
Automatic or revolver, your choice
New generation I'm the new voice
The new style, got ya' girls legs opened too wide
Lambs breath got me too fried
Guns would split ya' body in half, so they got to give you two byes
Alter ego when you see me, so you gotta give me two hi's
Jet engine on my back, metaphor I'm too fly
Can't get in touch with me so you gotta call me two times from two different lines
I'm too nice to rhyme
So I write poetry
Got ya' girlfriend blowing me
Well known but ain't nobody knowing Feek
I was thirteen on these streets
Destined to make it off the streets
Unknowningly I held it down for my town
Run for my crown and it's only me
I'm free and you a sellout
That's the difference
When these niggas gonna ever listen
Son of a stone, ice connection but forever nigga we never glisten
Eastside Camden holler!
VERSE 2 (K Styles) :
Ungh hungh
It's 'ya boy K Styles in the building
And they call me Mr. Bottle pour liquor
X-O
And I'm from the Eastside
You already know
We gone have some drinks in the air in a minute
I pour Bellaire for the haters 'cus they mad as hell
Ace of Spades for the real niggas
Ungh hung, you know how we do it
YBG if you ain't know about it we young black and gifted
((Ecmd Feeky in background: let 'em know bro))
I'ma let this beat ride out
I don't know why y'all mad
Y'all niggas y'all got problems
Something like Drake, started from the bottom
Now that I'm here and I see things clearer
Your words ain't adding up, you moving too weird
I gotta keep my distance surrounded by these haters
If you ain't about your money I'ma have to see you later
I got my ups and downs, my life's a elevator
Get it on my own, never ask for favors
Black James Bond I'm a smooth operator
Addicted to the hustle I'm addicted to this paper
Never been a sucker, too fly to be a hater
Straight from the slums young black and gifted
My back against the wall with a whole lot of stress
The good die young which makes me depressed
Pour a lot of liquor open up your chest
Can you see my vision ooooouu you're still blind
Black shades to a hundred you don't see my point of view
All this fake love that's why I don't fuck with you
Little that you know, I got the game on smash
Treat you like your dad I should beat your ass
Haha
VERSE 3 (Johnny Merk)
Yeah it's Zilla
You already know, fatal moves
I see ya', 'ya know
YBGFM, 'ya heard
Yeah, yeah
Let me get wavy on 'em
Yeah, yeah, yeah
Fresh filling in for my smoker
I put a roll up in an eighth never been a choker
I'm just an awesome saddened me for the sad and hopeless
They wanna spread misery but I'm not open
Die cast with a bloat for my skeletal
Got a stripper for the most on a pedestal
It's not a joke why I do this here
Fingers falling at the waist for that lotus care
Pussy kinda greasy like California pornstars
Five dollar ask for change like a coin star
Loose hair grains running with no heart
Quick mommy come here I'm hooked like a torn star
What, Zilla

( Ecmd Feeky )
www.ChordsAZ.com

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