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Rosary Video (MV)




Performed By: Yimah
Length: 2:56
Written by: Chris Nguyen




Yimah - Rosary Lyrics




Holding back on tracing and taking my time
It's getting closer to what I think is mine
External forces try and retort but it won't work
Got the temple set up with the invisible shield
I'm in here all alone trying to heal
Nah man, you need to chill
When meaning is lost it all gets so surreal
Worrying about those bills
Buying grills, taking more pills
Free refills and cheap thrills
You living on f*cking a hill
It's gonna take more skill to fulfill the will
Trust me, I don't feel how you feel
Just over here trying to eat
All that covered and it'd be pretty f*cking sweet

Cops don't get love
Not tryna lay low
SJ's so cold
Down with Pelosi
Where all the hoes?
There's not many more
F*ck all the shows
There's too many bros
Not enough hoes
Selling some mold
How many's this sold?
How many's this sold?

(Huh? Yeah)
Where my flower at? Where my flower go?
Imma get her what she needs, imma get her that dough
Imma bring the spring, imma light it up for growth
Cuz once my poppy sings, bitch you already know
I could flip her for the fiends
Heroin, no control
Cuz my flower takes a hold on your mind and your throat
You can fight her, I'll provide her
She can hit you in the dome
Methylone is a no when my poppy's in your home

Cops don't get love
Not tryna lay low
SJ's so cold
Down with Pelosi
Where all the hoes?
There's not many more
F*ck all the shows
There's too many bros
Not enough hoes
Selling some mold
How many's this sold?
How many's this sold?

Keep my name off your f*cking tongue
Lasted till donor gave lungs
Breathing in your final valium
Posse cackling as I sunder to run
Know what's done is already done
Told me to slow my roll but they rushing me
Thought you wanted me this fast and anxious
Type of dude to run up to you, f*ck up your facelift
Never ask what the time is
Look to racks for the tracker
Cracker jacker offer me a bill
Till I shutdown all but Bombadil
Sat on nil without the trunk closed, hold still
Supposed to pick a five with Atilla fingers
Who won't think about hun but puss out, sound so shrill
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

[ Correct these Lyrics ]

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Holding back on tracing and taking my time
It's getting closer to what I think is mine
External forces try and retort but it won't work
Got the temple set up with the invisible shield
I'm in here all alone trying to heal
Nah man, you need to chill
When meaning is lost it all gets so surreal
Worrying about those bills
Buying grills, taking more pills
Free refills and cheap thrills
You living on f*cking a hill
It's gonna take more skill to fulfill the will
Trust me, I don't feel how you feel
Just over here trying to eat
All that covered and it'd be pretty f*cking sweet

Cops don't get love
Not tryna lay low
SJ's so cold
Down with Pelosi
Where all the hoes?
There's not many more
F*ck all the shows
There's too many bros
Not enough hoes
Selling some mold
How many's this sold?
How many's this sold?

(Huh? Yeah)
Where my flower at? Where my flower go?
Imma get her what she needs, imma get her that dough
Imma bring the spring, imma light it up for growth
Cuz once my poppy sings, bitch you already know
I could flip her for the fiends
Heroin, no control
Cuz my flower takes a hold on your mind and your throat
You can fight her, I'll provide her
She can hit you in the dome
Methylone is a no when my poppy's in your home

Cops don't get love
Not tryna lay low
SJ's so cold
Down with Pelosi
Where all the hoes?
There's not many more
F*ck all the shows
There's too many bros
Not enough hoes
Selling some mold
How many's this sold?
How many's this sold?

Keep my name off your f*cking tongue
Lasted till donor gave lungs
Breathing in your final valium
Posse cackling as I sunder to run
Know what's done is already done
Told me to slow my roll but they rushing me
Thought you wanted me this fast and anxious
Type of dude to run up to you, f*ck up your facelift
Never ask what the time is
Look to racks for the tracker
Cracker jacker offer me a bill
Till I shutdown all but Bombadil
Sat on nil without the trunk closed, hold still
Supposed to pick a five with Atilla fingers
Who won't think about hun but puss out, sound so shrill
[ Correct these Lyrics ]
Writer: Chris Nguyen
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

Back to: Yimah

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