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Lyrify.me

The City We Built by Ubi Fumus Lyrics

Genre: rap | Year: 2013

[Hook: Isaac Buckley]
I've got an ounce of potent, I've got a tank of gas
I've got a cup of potion, sipping something from my flask
I've got my people with me, fuck I'm faded
Damn I love my city, look what we created

[Verse 1: Isaac Buckley]
My eyes are low, time is slow
My bass is loud, my mind is blown
Gotta write this song, gotta find my zone
My brother's here, I don't ride alone
My girl's got the soul of a mafioso
So adios to the others, I run with a bunch of locals
I'm broke as a leaky faucet, recording all of my vocals
I'm rolling these sticky blossoms with thoughts of being a mogul
The feeling I would kill for, to see my name up on those billboards
As I sip a 40 down 64 east, backseat, smoking jays to the filter
It's the city that formed my artistry
On friday mornings, at Westbury Pharmacy
Evelyn's special number one
I won't rest until I'm done
Becoming as much a part of Richmond as the city is a part of me
You can feel it in my words from the Village to the Byrd
This city's in my blood, blowing Phillies full of herb
They're telling me they feel me but it really feels absurd
She says she loves the beat but she can't clearly hear the words
I just narrate some stupid shit that really did occur
Can't tell you why I do it, sometimes I just feel the urge
With my city all behind me I can feel I'm on the verge
That's my, word
[Hook]

[Verse 2: Peter Sun]
Uh, look what we created
Two pills and an L, I'm faded
More green than a SuperSonic and I feel like Gary Payton
Tye-dye, HnG, I'm banging
Dope gang until the casket drops
Y'all niggas been cold on the stove
Although I don't know why they swear they hot
Let me blow they spot
Nigga, I call them Hiroshima
Talk tough I be popping these breakout niggas
My gun Noxima
Can't get money with me fool, he can't get money without me
Running my city, need a tracksuit and some Puma's on me
Boy, been grinding ten years you still low
No CZ's, no diamonds, we all know you still broke
Don't want war, I know bloods, SAs, and real locs
Bang like live grenades, its cut throat nigga
No remorse
And bitch I'm all about them Benjamins
Ice Cube, Mike Epps, pop Xanax like my stress bad
Eyes low, nigga blame it on jet lag
It's RVA, that g shit
And I'm full till' that E hit
And I'm rollin while I'm rollin
My real talk looks like slow motion
[Hook]

[Verse 3: Isaac Buckley]
Mother fucker we made it
I'm fucked up, I'm down to ride
I'm love struck with this town of mine
I want the crown and people all around
Keep telling me that now's the time
Bumpin' Clipse as we pump our breaks
We don't love the girls, we just love the chase
Puffing jays, we've got bud for days
So we dont fuck with these fucking fakes
Your dame is up in my house
Your lady is up in my couch
If I'm not relevant
Well tell me then why my name is up in your mouth
Keep these petty foes in the dark
Keep blunts already rolled in the car
I keep these raps all in my head
And I keep my city close to my heart
And these other fuckers clearly confused
Because kid its grass roots fam and its hippies and goons
I said its grass roots fam and its hippies and goons