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Drop, the Merchant

from aftercare​.​. by A. Ripdae la Wise Escobar

/

lyrics

Fathom notions of my son learning from the core of jumbies, I’m sinning, but trying my best, leaning west. Sharp. Now how do I teach when there’s rage in my heart? I live to protect, my comfort is being his bite when he barks.

As whoever approaches stark of mine, he’ll grow to be a man of his own prone to kindness, shatters with reminders of when the world deserved real angels, niggas creep around corners looking for a playful eyeful from me.

But my eye contact has no contact if the contact is fake food.

Aramíz, evitar el abismo.

The food for thought is you’re a baby in limbo. Earth is a sham, & our hearts ain’t the limit of where your smiles will land.

Under covers, overdose sheets for dead simps. Death is order, until you rise to give breaths. Under covers, overdose sheets for dead simps. Death is order, until you rise to give steps.

credits

from aftercare​.​., released May 10, 2020
instrumental & lyrics by Antonio H. Escobar.

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A. Ripdae la Wise Escobar St Thomas, Virgin Islands

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