
Stogie T – Sway In The Morning Freestyle Lyrics Mp3 Download Fakaza
South African singer is out today with a new song.
Stogie T is a South African music singer who has come through with a new Song titled, Sway In The Morning Freestyle Lyrics.
The new song is currently available for download on FakazaHouse below.
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There ain’t a French bottle we ain’t pop
 A fresh article we ain’t cop
 Benz top that we ain’t dropped
 And dress model we ain’t knock
 Festival we ain’t rocked
 Destined to be this hot
 To the best of my knowledge
 Rest of them average, that’s saying a lot
 But if you taking stock
 And you don’t save a spot for the forsaken lot
 From the baking hot, land of the slaver’s dock
 That’s your prerogative, we polar opposites
 I’m from the continent of poverty and long walk accomplishments
 Where former heroes give birth to spoiled rotten kids
 The opulent meet the poor cleaning their offices
 We push rocket ships like Elon Musk charge the whip
 But still stuck in shit, cuz we don’t got a pot to piss in
 Say God forgives as you give the church half your shit
 I’m bugging, still we can’t tell a pastor from a pimp
 It’s Roman Catholic, it’s Anglican, it’s African tribesmen
 Migrant, shit, it’s masked men kidnapping kids
 I say South Africa, you think Trevor, I think Nelson
 It’s half apparent, you getting mixed messages
 I say Nigeria, you think Fela, I think Delta
 It’s past and present, blurry as an impressionist
 Sway, I put your certified hyenas in elephant graves
 I’m punching way above the ceiling you said is the grade
 This is the red letter day, show’ em how a vet is made
 Last time somebody spit this fire, David Blaine
 These ready-made superstars, with tattoos and scars
 And you think they can save face with a few bars
 They lukewarm, I’m in true form
 38 like Jordan in Utah, killing them with the flu shot
 Strus God, that means trust me, I’m nutty as RuPaul
 But I wear out a pussy like King Jaffe in New York
 What could you do bro?
 When I promise you all the smoke
 I am so Calvin Broadus to Snoop Dogg
 This is the diary of a mad man
 Who should’ve been stamped champ but I wrote above their heads like Anne Frank
 Fam, I’m a GI-ant amongst ants, like the tyrant from Baghdad
 Who sayin’ (Hussein) I can’t hang on camera?
 Grew up on Hammers, M16 Hammers
 No dances, miss me with MC Hammer
 I’m a Kool G Rap alumni, these my handlers
 The kufi Nas from NY, Jesus medallion
 Reading Langston Hughes, el-Hajj Malik el-Shabazz and them, shit
 In the pocket like the Audubon assassin
 They gon’ photograph a African prototype of a starving kid
 But not show you the royal blue Aston Martin whip
 It’s complicated, and fuck vibranium, Educate ‘em
 We got ghettos too, and they orange-juice concentrated
 But Bo Brady said be measured in your actions
 Give them honey and pain, happiness and the anguish
 Like when Tony got the flooded Roley and we called it hope
 For all the times the po-po had my folks against the ropes
 For all the times we drove a shawty out to Marie Stopes
 And all the ones we almost broke, but still be calling hoes
 They fall for men who end up teachin’ em the rope or dope
 These are the broken homes we from
 It ain’t sweet like it’s marijuana leaves highs
 Like Maradona sniff white
 Strangled by a short leash, my mama hold the fist tight
 Tell a bigot, he can suck and lick a piss pipe
 Cuz we gon get the level up and win in this life
 I’m from the real south, not the fried catfish, Killer Mike…
 I mean a township, real south
 Where blacks go through hardships like a roundtrip flight
 It’s bad shit backwards for the wrong skin type
 And I’m disliked, but I don’t give too many fucks
 When they set the bar, I look back and tell’ em where it was
 This shit ain’t for everyone, second cousin and aunt
 Taking a dump on the culture for a radio chart
 But I ain’t mad at you might even dance to it
 And half the world can watch me, Thanos, snap to it

