Ate breakfast with my ex, dead bitch Now she text me in the afterlife while I take a shit Bust my teeth with a brick Shower in a bunker Afterparty at the crib, we only huffin' duster Yellin' in a telephone under the covers Slipped in the shower now the light'll take me under Dapped in the head, shirt turns red In the garden with the snakes, now I'm living and dead In a world with no Ant who the fuck needs friends I got a million brain problems and my bitches probably all of them
Tryin' to be down, well he probably could But that bitch just a little too Hollywood Took about a pound of the charlie 'fore the party good He ain't never seen a brick they shot him where he stood Step off Back up, back up, back up, back up, back up Step back up, back up, back up, back up, back up Shh Back up, back up, back up, back up, back up Back up, back up, back up, back up, back up
Drugs, (Drugs!) drugs, (Drugs!) drugs, (Drugs!) drugs, (Drugs!) She take another shot and then she give another hug She feelin' really snug like a rug who under a bug Or maybe she meant the opposite Molly did and she coppin' it Selfie photo she croppin' it Since they askin' she poppin' it Self-control, yeah she lockin' it All away, thot, she rockin' it Showin' she lonely only to end up alone and clockin' it (Party, party, party, party, party) and she ain't stoppin' it Next morning time for work she still asleep 'Bout to lose her job and it's the third time this week She tryin' to make that paper on the web showin' her feet To them creeps, ain't she sweet, now he askin' her to meet At a club, 42nd and Whitelock Now he got her cornered, tryin' to show her white cock (Come here, baby!) She wear a smile, and then she touch it for a while While he pullin' out that pipe and he fillin' it with that white rock He tryin' to fill her ass while he feelin' it, it'll crack Stab, she pulls a katana that's Dolce Gabbana And blood's everywhere, nigga back up, ah
Tryin' to be down, well he probably could But that bitch just a little too Hollywood Took about a pound of the charlie 'fore the party good He ain't never seen a brick they shot him where he stood Step off Back up, back up, back up, back up, back up Step back up, back up, back up, back up, back up Shh Back up, back up, back up, back up, back up Back up, back up, back up, back up, back up
Fake red shit on them hot cheese sticks From the corner store, pocket full of loosies and a cherry Coke Red nose like a pit, wipes that on the sleeve Back to the counter, pop clip Empty the drawer, leave House packed from the front door to the back door, can't breathe Loud pack lit out back in the backyard, that weed Smellin' the clothes under the skin Fuck up the flow, bitch goin' in She twerkin' alone, you don't wanna touch her She probably could bite your face off in a minute She hittin' them bath salts, like it was exfoliating It's no more glasses cause the shits keep breaking Get your rake up, step up, pour up, burn up Hold up, shit, you already know Turn up, turn up, turn up, so when the eyes look marble that's the code And the rain is comin' down again Under the porchlight it glows, it burns when it hits the skin Cleans the soul they say, but why would you listen to them Just get a new one, like a white tee, at the corner store they got 'em two for ten
Tryin' to be down, well he probably could But that bitch just a little too Hollywood Took about a pound of the charlie 'fore the party good He ain't never seen a brick they shot him where he stood Step off Back up, back up, back up, back up, back up Step back up, back up, back up, back up, back up Shh Back up, back up, back up, back up, back up Back up, back up, back up, back up, back up
Back up, back up, back up, back up, back up Back up, back up, back up, back up, back up Back up, back up, back up, back up, back up Back up, back up, back up, back up, back upTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
