charles hamilton – shazzam lyrics
alright… so i made another point. laid another joint. ladies, come cuddle with a poindexter. i mean, a poindexter. but my point was made. i’m over with flexing words. and flexing with them. yes, i listen. i better listen. in my head, i listen. and i’m getting messed up, because a chick is getting dressed up right in front of me, saying “from the neck up, you are… my company.” probably in my reflection. my correction (basically) leads the direction of destiny, but my knee isn’t twisted. it’s left with it. like standing with the best footage. and fitting. hamilton… can’t seem to get it together, but it’s hamilton spitting this shit. like, whatever
i don’t want a home
i want to be alone
(since when does it matter if i ever gave two shits?
since when does it matter if i ever gave two shits?)
sing along if you dare
because you know that i don’t care
you know that i don’t care
know that i don’t care
…and that’s my n-gg- shazzam who i’m rappin’ about. i ain’t giving a d-mn. i ain’t chatting from the mouth, am i? can i get away with an exclamation p-o-i-n-t? need a little information about how high i get with my sensei? since he doesn’t make a mistake, it’s endless to make me wanna quake neighbors. just like him. amp on the side, plus my grin. flexing on a slick guitar. learn another lesson while i’m spittin’ bars. perhaps a metaphor. rapping better than ever, or… cats can take the feather from the pin, but can’t seem to get it together again
i don’t want a home
i want to be alone
(since when does it matter if i ever gave two shits?
since when does it matter if i ever gave two shits?)
sing along if you dare
because you know that i don’t care
you know that i don’t care
know that i don’t care
my witchcraft is kicking the -ss of black women. and black women are wishing i’d laugh. listen. it’s not even a grin that i’m giving. i’m simply listening to the past and kissing your -ss with it. but imagine if mad shit… if mad different shit comes out of my mouth after this, then that’s twisted. i give half my shit. mad ballistics. cl-ssic hit. mad at it? shit… possibly me. gotta be honest when i flee. but i don’t ever, because i’m better forever. get my feather back. get a better rap. looking at better raps in my mind, while i write hooks down. better define the meaning of happiness for you. because i’m happy doing what i do. that’s hard work for you
i don’t want a home
i want to be alone
(since when does it matter if i ever gave two shits?
since when does it matter if i ever gave two shits?)
sing along if you dare
because you know that i don’t care
you know that i don’t care
know that i don’t care
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