asa jake x aw6ken – flatine lyrics
deranged psychotic my train of thought tends to play with objects
ill hit a g-y with boxes containing toxics get ladies stomping “go away just stop it” trick i’ll sever you take your wallet i’m only playing i just want a reaction cus that be how
you make a profit
i remember the days where i’d sit face down with hands caged in pockets ain’t much changed but now my name’s in topics b-tches claim i’m wanted cus of my fate that’s obviously staying godly all these thots are onto me if i flashed genitalia i’d have lorena bob it (bobbet)
i’m sticking a motherf-cker in a morgue i penetrate
these spitters thinking that they wanna come brawl your featherweights
and that means that imma blow you out the motherf-cking water like a whale giving head like a f-cking wh-r- you getting played
if i get up on your track and you ain’t even sent a payment then you know i bring machetes when i spit a federation gets eradicated cus on the tracks you making i’m really kicking the ears of katy perry, i’m sure, i defacate! (deaf a kate)
real recognise real and you a phoney pr-ck. i’ll make your b-tch wail (whale) when i d-ck her, call that moby d-ck. you know he’s sick. imagine me taking a sh-t and wiping my -ss with a page in the bible… holy sh-t!!! you thinking you christ? that’s pathetic. you’ll get dragged to the cross for pretending. i said i’ll drag you to the cross, cross-dressing. drag and cross, holy smokes. y’all get it. i’ll flip your set off, off your set when i set off. i’ll turn offsets awful set of c-ssettes off. i’m officially set on k!lling you stupid rappers. offset, more like on set cuz you an actor. i’ll x you off, i’m like x tryna off his ex. you just f-cking a-round, oval office s-x. you on a diet when dissin’ the goat, you planning to lose now. i’m sick on the low, i flew (flu) south
he flew south but when i’m d-cking your b-tch then bet it gonna be from the north pole
man im too foul i be up on the mic and i’m pulling birds in every city cus i chalk cold so i’ll chew out your torso all you fools loud i’ll get your jawbone and snip it and watch it tumble on the floor so the next time you’ll look intrigued when your getting brain from your hoe!
don’t screw round cus i’ll behead come forth with detriment for daughters
why does these plebs want war you vets ain’t raw not even when your spelling rawkus
i had my ex just call up telling me that i’ll stay underground so imma drown that b-tch in a cesspool, so i guess i’m sorta giving the b-tch ex-cess-ive torture
then ima stiff you, fetch the coroner. finna be stiff, call it rigor mortis or my d-ck when i’m in intercourse with an aborted and dissected corpse. then i form metaphors in an instant, for instance fawn to end you frauds with the 44. for forensics or k!ll you for a price, heaven for bid. b-tch, i’ll come in your window. c-m innuendo, i’m f-cking your b-tch, so be in befuddled when i’m up under your pillow and then ima pillage you, k!lling you, rugged and mental. but if you wanna throw hands, then it’s on, f-ggot, i be busting your lip, bro. i’ll call you lindsey lohan (low hand), i got upper-hand when i’m coming to get you!
i’m running to get you i’m finna f-cking hit a queer
you b-tches don’t dip it’s funny cus a diss appear (disappear)
you can think what you wanna think i’ll run a f-cking ring around these spitters and the moment they getting in you interfere
get it? they into fear cus there dreading it it’s evident my sh-t is heaven sent i’m in the element so it is clear that if i’m not the heir to the throne they’ll only be air by the throne i’ll k!ll em all b-tch i’m here
b-tch i’m here, f-ck with me? i’m a crooked sinner, literally i’m coming to get you, configuring speech. i’m a nice shot, so my bullets finna come in peace (piece). all spitters finna be cadaverous, it’s evident. put the fear of god in ‘em when i reek havoc, call it heaven-sent (scent)
we heaven scent, you ain’t getting money you ain’t getting cents for perfume that you’ll spray
on your woman and go tell her you love her but she hit my text per fume that i spray
it’s a curfew when we slay, that means we going in right? i’m with your dame. your b-tch plain (plane), that’s how you miss flights
f-ck a flight no strings attached you ain’t getting on a zip line!
zipping bodybags with lines, you can call that sh-t a zip-line
then we plant guys to a landmine but when their blast high they don’t spit fly!
our crafts tight and these cats hyphens, they flat line when we rip mics!