bass santana - curse lyrics
[intro: xxxtentacion]
hey, check my resumé
to b-ss be the glory
my d-ck go hard, eight (oy, oy)
true facts, ayy, ayy
[verse 1: xxxtentacion]
check my clock, i can’t stop, ayy
fuck around, make my 40 pop, ayy
no popcaans, i pop pistols, ya
revenge my body, clothing no issue, ah
makes you look sick, you need a tissue
you drop a body, i just might bless you, ayy
i’m metro-sexual, no high cholesterol, ya
where jenny craig? b-tch, let’s get sexual, ya, ya
[verse 2: b-ss santana]
why the fuck i’d ever lie?
pussy nigga bet that pistol part of your disguise, ya
i could see it in your eyes
runnin’ from the reaper, fuck i’m not afraid to die
b-tches creepin’ on my line
got my main upset, these hoes i fucked and left behind
need at least two at a time
moved to foreign, took it over, lost my fuckin’ mind
instigatin’s why i don’t trust these b-tches
two-faced and lame -ss nigga
gangbang for fame fake hitta
i ain’t never seen squad wit’ ya
i don’t need a savior, fuck the faith
cop myself an ounce and work the weight
seen the babylon around the way
who the fuck they catchin’? not today
[chorus: b-ss santana]
ridin’ ’round with sinners, flyin’ on a nimbus (ya, ya)
spot a nigga slippin’, hold on, roll down the window, yo (ah)
low-key schemin’, leave his momma screamin’, yo (ya)
curse these demons, lord, curse these demons (ah)
[verse 3: coolie cut]
chase ’em with the fuckin’ tec
hit ’em where it hurt, nigga make it work
i’ma make it squirt, nigga i do dirt
nigga i’ma merc, put ’em in the earth
pay me for the verse, put ’em in a he-rs-
gotta finish first, i just did my first
protect me from my curse (from my curse, from my curse)
ayy, yuh, b-tch!
[verse 4: kin$oul]
b-tch, i put in work, spittin’ with a curse
wouldn’t be the first, how much is you worth?
sell you tour merch, i just wanna fuck
i don’t wanna flirt, why your feelings hurt?
cha cha slide, all in that pussy
how you doin’ love? let’s go make a movie
body lookin’ good, when you dress in gucci
love the chicken breast, bitin’ on yo’ booty
[chorus: b-ss santana]
ridin’ ’round with sinners, flyin’ on a nimbus
spot a nigga slippin’, hold on, roll down the window, yo
low-key schemin’, leave his momma screamin’, yo
curse these demons, lord, curse these demons
lit
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