Muppy - I`M SICK (Remix by WHOAMI) (Edit by Lxrdhezee)

Remix by: WHOAMI Edit by: Lxrdhezee Lyrics: Uh, yeah! B-Bully-bully, uh, bet you think it’s funny, uh (Yeah) In a hurry, uh, back to back when I’m running up And they pull it up, I don’t care ’bout money much I’ll add the final touch and ride around, I don’t give a fuck (Yeah) E-E-Enter the void when I wake up Grabbing the bag and I make off You cannot pattern the way That I’m planning my day ’cause I’m ready to take off In and out, better get racks (Aye, yeah) Feel on fire when I pull out the facts (Aye, yeah) I’m on time, but I’m ready to act (Aye, yeah) And I won’t be distracted collecting my tax (Aye, yeah) I’m fucking sick of saying sorry You’re gonna run me to the ground I’m not saying that it ain’t your fault But you don’t seem to understand (Yeah) I’m fucking sick and tired of thinking, uh (Woo!) But everytime I do ya proud (Woo!) I don’t wanna hear ya, first of all (Woo!) I’m gonna fucking tear you out Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, ooh! My final thoughts are I don’t think you’re really on smoke Everybody acting like they’re not a fucking joke I cannot be bothered with your funny little show So I keep it fucking moving when I see you all cope Man on a mission, uh, see me sitting on the throne, yeah Fuck anybody in my way, doing it all on my own, okay They never listen, uh, I’ma just get to the truth, like stop What are you doing, uh? Never ever gonna lose I’m fucking sick of saying sorry You’re gonna run me to the ground I’m not saying that it ain’t your fault But you don’t seem to understand (Yeah) I’m fucking sick and tired of thinking, uh (Woo!) But everytime I do ya proud (Woo!) I don’t wanna hear ya, first of all (Woo!) I’m gonna fucking tear you out Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, ooh! Bring the roof down, when you hear that new sound They want a truce now, I don’t think I’m too proud Making my mind up, I’m fucked up And I’m going in blind when I rock up Cannot counter the way that I lock up I been doing my thing and you’re not tough I’m walking on ash while you pull up and crash I got inches away from the pot luck You thinking you’re bad, but you’re really just sad And you sit in your grave while I stock up Run for cover, sucker, tracking down you motherfuckers Shooting every door you may have opened just to see you suffer I don’t care