Texty:
The Damned Sick Of This And That

A discontent that efferents An emptiness or nothingness that's heaven sent I'm sick of the country Sick of the town Sick of the future It's getting me down I say and

my complements A discontent that efferents An enptyness or nothingness that's heaven sent I'm sick of the coutry Sick of the town Sick of the future It's getting me down I say, and

the Red and White flag keep it high keep it visual people say Canada and get stereotypical think we finish every sentence with buddy or bye and if it ain't that

the words but I'll hum along There's nothing familiar here anymore To anyone or anything enough to feel alive And I still taste that sickness And it

a hit nigga Hot mother fucker down to the skit nigga Game over playa and nigga ya scored low Hit me later young and I'm at the award show Bank account ten digits and

, yea, yea just pass the Courvoisier Yea, pass me that Louie that motherfuckin' that that iron groove Nineteen vintage motherfuckin' medievil Ow, bitch, yea, just pass the Courvoisier That, that shit make That

World, still a cold world and a couple ya is cool but we a little more thorough whole town, a little more girls you know I spit that sick shit and there

of my friends On the East and the West Coast Gotta let this drama go Nineteen eighty six, deep in the mix Me and my team out for cream and jewel-liks

dirt on you to murder you This is what the fuck I do Mariah, it ever occur to you that I still have pictures? However you prefer to do And that goes