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Half Only - Pagliacci Lyrics



Half Only - Pagliacci Lyrics




Thoughts pile in til my dome says don't start
Not Shaolin but I'm at one with a closed guard
False start I go again and get my palm charred
No lactose like that cow from barnyard
Bars keep burning my heart like GERD
Rank me second or third? Absurd
Thank me for putting lipstick on a turd
Got nerfed by the devs for the sound of it
Every word worth a pound of piff
Written off a pound of spliffs
Never touched an ounce of it
Sniff civility I pounce on it
Writ wittily since I found my wick
Little bit vicious and I'm proud of it
Hear nuns chucking up from the sound of it
If you're sat upon a throne get up out of it
See the clown makeup and you bow a bit
Hey, name somebody equal to the quill
I'll maim anybody even feasibly as ill
If I had a quid for every rapper I could kill
Then I'd probably still be seven digits off a mill
Now I only pop a sentimental fentanyl
Ownership the gap between the other rent-a-skills
Every feature on the track pick a pen to sketch a will
I'm writing tighter than ill
You're all deaths no kills
I got them hiking up hills and scoffing Vicodin pills
Agent 47 with a mic and a quill
Juiced to the gills, abusing the pills
Wobbly like a zombie that got used to the thrills
You're food for the bill, assuming you're ill
Any rapper just another rooster to kill
Said that I'm the goat but I refuted it still
Busy building bastilles out of bars that Zeus couldn't kill

Four years pen been kept under latch key
Notes app empty as your bag of baccy
Ever since I remembered where my pad be
I just see tracks like bad acne
Now the right brain strolls free like Mariachi
I just say run for your life, Pagliacci
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English

Thoughts pile in til my dome says don't start
Not Shaolin but I'm at one with a closed guard
False start I go again and get my palm charred
No lactose like that cow from barnyard
Bars keep burning my heart like GERD
Rank me second or third? Absurd
Thank me for putting lipstick on a turd
Got nerfed by the devs for the sound of it
Every word worth a pound of piff
Written off a pound of spliffs
Never touched an ounce of it
Sniff civility I pounce on it
Writ wittily since I found my wick
Little bit vicious and I'm proud of it
Hear nuns chucking up from the sound of it
If you're sat upon a throne get up out of it
See the clown makeup and you bow a bit
Hey, name somebody equal to the quill
I'll maim anybody even feasibly as ill
If I had a quid for every rapper I could kill
Then I'd probably still be seven digits off a mill
Now I only pop a sentimental fentanyl
Ownership the gap between the other rent-a-skills
Every feature on the track pick a pen to sketch a will
I'm writing tighter than ill
You're all deaths no kills
I got them hiking up hills and scoffing Vicodin pills
Agent 47 with a mic and a quill
Juiced to the gills, abusing the pills
Wobbly like a zombie that got used to the thrills
You're food for the bill, assuming you're ill
Any rapper just another rooster to kill
Said that I'm the goat but I refuted it still
Busy building bastilles out of bars that Zeus couldn't kill

Four years pen been kept under latch key
Notes app empty as your bag of baccy
Ever since I remembered where my pad be
I just see tracks like bad acne
Now the right brain strolls free like Mariachi
I just say run for your life, Pagliacci
[ Correct these Lyrics ]
Writer: Jacob Mota-Veiga, Callum Woodhead-McClimens
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

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Half Only - Pagliacci Video
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Performed By: Half Only
Language: English
Length: 1:41
Written by: Jacob Mota-Veiga, Callum Woodhead-McClimens
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