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Dark Magic Video (MV)




Performed By: Sharc
Language: English




Sharc - Dark Magic Lyrics




Ooh, clean that boy up off the scene
Mop him up
No funny shit Bangout, this how we coming

Yes like, yes, tell my younging TOS
He know what that mean
Stretch that boy quick like limousine
Jakey clean the scene
Geeked up listening to Bobby
Womack in the SRT flex
Yeah, we stepping on that pack
Then we serve his ass
Wifey swerving, German tags
The glickies in her Birkin bag
Press me, ask me the wrong question
I'mma stretch his ass
Jetski, waverunner cross a 20 pack
Lil bro said he tired of this shit
He gonna get that boy
Gadgets on the bottom of the fifth
The green beam whiff the boy
Shooter never meant no, he a sicko boy
I'm in lil Cuba
We got U-Hauls of the Chips Ahoy!
Check please, two bands for his steak
His wrist on Gretzky
Stretch clean, taxing out of state
I got a parakeet

Messy, mini
Glock smoke, swerve that lil boy
Like a pothole
Styrofoam, put that stick to work, yeah
It's job
Dopebowl, killer tie a rag, round the 44
Street sweeper
Lil bro in the hallway with the big demon
Track' scratching, waking up the neighbors
Money
Fishtail him, head chop him like a Israeli
Big smoke, soon as they bring it
I be inhaling fishscaling, out the jungle
I was chin chilling
Fishscaling, couple Gs for some dungarees
Butter seats in this Cullinan
I got flooded teeth
Hover board, on her knees speaking
Voldemort, dark magic, on a muddy spree
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[ Correct these Lyrics ]

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Ooh, clean that boy up off the scene
Mop him up
No funny shit Bangout, this how we coming

Yes like, yes, tell my younging TOS
He know what that mean
Stretch that boy quick like limousine
Jakey clean the scene
Geeked up listening to Bobby
Womack in the SRT flex
Yeah, we stepping on that pack
Then we serve his ass
Wifey swerving, German tags
The glickies in her Birkin bag
Press me, ask me the wrong question
I'mma stretch his ass
Jetski, waverunner cross a 20 pack
Lil bro said he tired of this shit
He gonna get that boy
Gadgets on the bottom of the fifth
The green beam whiff the boy
Shooter never meant no, he a sicko boy
I'm in lil Cuba
We got U-Hauls of the Chips Ahoy!
Check please, two bands for his steak
His wrist on Gretzky
Stretch clean, taxing out of state
I got a parakeet

Messy, mini
Glock smoke, swerve that lil boy
Like a pothole
Styrofoam, put that stick to work, yeah
It's job
Dopebowl, killer tie a rag, round the 44
Street sweeper
Lil bro in the hallway with the big demon
Track' scratching, waking up the neighbors
Money
Fishtail him, head chop him like a Israeli
Big smoke, soon as they bring it
I be inhaling fishscaling, out the jungle
I was chin chilling
Fishscaling, couple Gs for some dungarees
Butter seats in this Cullinan
I got flooded teeth
Hover board, on her knees speaking
Voldemort, dark magic, on a muddy spree
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

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