Immortal by Third Eye Protege Lyrics
Gun slinger John Wayne
John cena, johnny blaze (4x)
(Verse 1)
Ima savage when I don't smoke
I might stab you in the larynx
"stare at darryl leaking down the drain"
And If she ask me All my bros know
Ima prophet Ima bastard Ima leader for the old souls
Don't do this for the critics , the bitches or for the kids
If this was for recognition I reckon I would've quit
But I'm still puffing hella cabbage
And I'm still bumpin Michael Jackson
All these pills Are yall still some addict
And I still think my bitch the baddest
Yeah you still stuck on reefer madness
All those bills bet you still an actress
Though the weathers schizophrenic
Bike is still in traffic
Bet I'm still in sandals
Cause I still got handles
And I'm stealing baskets
All the stigma round my status
But I still make passes
Understand those repercussions never been distracting
I'm demanding more discussion fore we start this landing
(Hook)
Still searching for the gold rush am I insane
I know that if she don't smoke it's not the same
I guess need a bad bitch that rides dick and gives brain
(What?)
(Verse 2)
High off my own self esteem fuck achievements
5 dollar poem and a dream for the season
Mind body soul melody and my demons
(Third- Eye - Proto - Ge)
The TIMES only show when we killin or we fiending
The TRIBUNE makes a tribute to the kids who died this weekend
The RED EYE said the red line had dead guy in the ceiling
'Street Wise' , gave him 5 so he could buy some peas then
Value fry is what I find, in line to get the seasoning
Apple Pies thats 99 Cent, really there's no reasoning
Sinus kind of closed Kurt and Keith I'm in the deep end
Find my cell phone heard it ring but fell asleep, shit (x3)
Time just tends to slow steadily up on the weekend
John cena, johnny blaze (4x)
(Verse 1)
Ima savage when I don't smoke
I might stab you in the larynx
"stare at darryl leaking down the drain"
And If she ask me All my bros know
Ima prophet Ima bastard Ima leader for the old souls
Don't do this for the critics , the bitches or for the kids
If this was for recognition I reckon I would've quit
But I'm still puffing hella cabbage
And I'm still bumpin Michael Jackson
All these pills Are yall still some addict
And I still think my bitch the baddest
Yeah you still stuck on reefer madness
All those bills bet you still an actress
Though the weathers schizophrenic
Bike is still in traffic
Bet I'm still in sandals
Cause I still got handles
And I'm stealing baskets
All the stigma round my status
But I still make passes
Understand those repercussions never been distracting
I'm demanding more discussion fore we start this landing
(Hook)
Still searching for the gold rush am I insane
I know that if she don't smoke it's not the same
I guess need a bad bitch that rides dick and gives brain
(What?)
(Verse 2)
High off my own self esteem fuck achievements
5 dollar poem and a dream for the season
Mind body soul melody and my demons
(Third- Eye - Proto - Ge)
The TIMES only show when we killin or we fiending
The TRIBUNE makes a tribute to the kids who died this weekend
The RED EYE said the red line had dead guy in the ceiling
'Street Wise' , gave him 5 so he could buy some peas then
Value fry is what I find, in line to get the seasoning
Apple Pies thats 99 Cent, really there's no reasoning
Sinus kind of closed Kurt and Keith I'm in the deep end
Find my cell phone heard it ring but fell asleep, shit (x3)
Time just tends to slow steadily up on the weekend