Testi:
Traffic Paper Sun

soaking wet But if you look around and see A shadow on the run Don't be too surprised if its just a paper sun Ahh Paper Sun, Ahh Paper Sun In the room

me this far I the type of nigga that don't give a fuck Just walked up and laughed at the cop Type of nigga to go up in traffic and start blastin the glock

traffic Watching the sun rise, twisting on the grass Money on my mind, got me thinking bout the cash Cuz i heard the plottin one You gotta have your paper

spiced bacardi dark No taste for flatter beers Frontin with your mouth open Let me empty out my bladder here Blowin like John Faddis Atomic air traffic

That?s like I read in the paper Like a pen, like a pen, yeah Battle likes a wicked good one Darian, Darian, yeah Landslide, going down, falling, stuck in traffic

but nobody do the bunny hop And y'all think, the sun is hot You ain't seen shit, I stay swarmed by a hundred bops Getting crunk, whenever they see paper

like her yet Don't forget your homies, can't forget my homies Well, as sun starts to dim and I'm under the speed limit And there's hectic traffic too

6:45 Must have hit that snooze button at least 3 times I'm wishing this morning was still last night On any other day, I just might wanna die Traffic

scale of personal gain mapping out the universe: a wife and kids with no name and a big house atop a hill that blocks out the sun for those who can