Hit Mix

Preachy bout a falsehood trade

Counting fingers, bout the lot you made

Nonchalant don’t care look plastic smile

Laughin to the bank with shag hairstyle

Catch myself looking around

Stuck in the shallow end and it’s makin me drown

Lick your finger, and hold it to the sky

Grab your sail man and raise it real high, cause

Eh, who you think you’re foolin’

Eh, who you think you’re foolin’

Use it abuse it everytime i swear you bruise it

Generically rich with your music

And tears fall when you lose it

Turning you on is like a bite from a shark

Bet you’d go pop cause your hollow no heart

Rooftop, we’re looking down

Watching your red flowers turn brown

Hit mix, it’s your profession

Don’t confuse passion with obses