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brick skool - fuck whites lyrics

[verse 1: king kenmore]

dis ya’ boy kenmore, what’s up n-gga’?
swishers, yeah, we roll ’em and our blunts gettin bigga’
shake that -ss, shake that -ss, bounce that, bounce that -ss
i’m a white dwarf ’bout to hit critical m-ss
i’ll go supernova, kush smoke, all this copa
if you wanna’ front, macs out, yeah, it’s ova’
gettin’ guap n-gga’, that is my f-cking goal
i’ll stick my d-ck, yeah dat d-ck, in your black hole
keep grindin’ keep grindin’, till your event horizon
drop that -ss quicker than some b-tch on ricin
yeah, we still trappin’, money tall, -ss-clapping
round of applause, b-tches need me in they jaws
haters know i’m right, still turnt on dirty sprite
hoes wanna’ hit it, yeah, we f-ckin’ all night
i can smoke a hundred pounds, down a bag of weed browns
whole jug of vodka, kenmore the pill-poppa’
one pack of salts, how am i still alive?
n-gga’s trynna’ front, hit ’em with the four-five
now we sippin’ codeine
kenmore on the winning team
mac against your head, front with me, yah, you dead

[hook: king kenmore, mc p–penstein, mc capital gains, dj triple-ply]

f-ck white people, f-ck white people, f-ck whites, (4x)

[verse 2: mc p–penstein]

this be mc p–penstein, f-ckin’ n-gga’s
gettin’ trippy, stuntin’, pullin’ trigga’s
out of time, out of mind, from the pack, can’t hold back
you best step up your game, b-tch, come attack
smokin’ on that kush, in the bush, in my front lawn
selling all my c0ke down the street at the p-wn shop
f-cking ’round with propane, gettin’ stacks, marmalade
makin’ bank, erry’day, kicking back with lemonade
check me n-gga’, where you at?
i’m f-cking set to overdrive, out the way, i’m up to bat
n-gga’s don’t know p–penstein, money tall, it’s a climb
k!lling p-ssies, you be next, in due time
beat that p-ssy to the brink
she’s so close she’s gonna’ ink
n-gga’s call me p-ssy trapper
dictator of all the pink
smokin’ blunts all day, smokin’ blunts all night
searchin’ erry’where for a light, it’s fight or flight
callin’ out to all you b-tches, make a move
i dare you, wacha’ gotta’ prove?
poppin’ caps in all you n-gga’s, blasting my colt 45
gettin’ racks and makin’ stacks, just take a dive
redbull flexin’, heartrate it be f-ckin’ soarin’
alcohol be always pourin’, swervin’ hard my engine roarin’
n-gga’ i ain’t from this place, find me hard i’ll set my pace
you be back in last place, oh sh-t, i won this race

[hook: king kenmore, mc p–penstein, mc capital gains, dj triple-ply]

f-ck white people, f-ck white people, f-ck whites, (4x)

[verse 3: mc capital gains]

whippin’ in that mazda 3, four door v6, f-ck wit’ me
n-gga’ got that two-tone paint, too turnt up, i ain’t a saint
drinkin’ on that natty lite, you p-ssies sippin’ dirty sprite
b-tches only on that mid, my f-cking verse is not for kids
my beats i k!ll, my verse i spit, got a fine–ss b-tch up on my d-ck
i just f-ck in my polo shirt, my sk!lls making these p-ssies squirt
dolla’s fallin’ on these hoes, i got more cash than romney knows
more paper than michael scott, f-ck wit’ me, you might get shot
got no choppers in that trunk, i’m reppin’ magpul, f-ckin’ punk
11 rounds all in my clip, f-ck obama, suck my d-ck
we’re flexin’ in the 864, f-ck with us, we’ll go to war
clips n’ sh-lls we’ll leave behind, f-ck your crew, i’m rippin’ twine
we turn up hard, we play our game, all these b-tches know our names
our squad is fly like choppa’ gunna’s, f-ck sosa boy and 3hunna
triple-ply his beats are dirty, f-ck 2chainz cuz’ he’s got thirty
trap-a-holics we addicted, we k!llin’ beats, almost convicted

(welcome to the streets, mother f-cker)

- brick skool lyrics

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