a b c d e f g h i j k l m n o p q r s t u v w x y z 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 #

delirium (rapper) - till i'm dead lyrics

[intro]
ride until i’m—
ride until i’m dead or ’til i—

[chorus]
(perfect)
ride until i’m dead or ’til i make these tires pop
ride until i’m dead or ’til i make these tires pop+pop+pop+pop
d+d+d+d+dead or ’til i make these tires pop
ride until i’m dead or ’til i make these tires pop (perfect)

ride until i’m dead or ’til i make these tires pop
ride until i’m dead or ’til i make these tires pop+pop+pop+pop
d+d+d+d+dеad or ’til i make these tirеs pop
ride until i’m dead or ’til i make these tires pop (perfect)

[verse]
ridin’ till i’m dead, hoe, bullets to your mental
hit you with that bap+bap, and now you under tombstone
that chrome up on my neck until my motherf+ckin’ neck broke
ridin’ in that civic, leave that p+ssy boy in tire smoke
tell ’em, “eat a d+ck, p+ssy motherf+cker, die slow”
you could get your body wrapped like motherf+ckin’ cairo
step across that line, and p+ssy boy, you goin’ viral
and you ain’t stand on nothin’, b+tch, you p+ssies got no spinal
catch me slidin’ in them vips, we ridin’ in some he+rs+s
c+ckin’ back that f+ckin’ matte black, p+ssy boy, it’s time for curtains
know we cuttin’ up them corners like some motherf+ckin’ surgeons
got them askin’ like, “who did it?” boy, you know i did it— (perfect)
who the f+ck is that?
i+i+i don’t know, but we ain’t f+ckin’ with your sound
and we ain’t f+ckin’ with the music
like, b+tch, i really do this, these cubans like some nooses
that p+ssy got a problem, got that .223 solution
i got seven reasons i don’t f+ck with anybody
like, every move i make, i see a motherf+cker copy
and every bag i get, i get a couple tryna block me
these p+ssies got no motion, so they movin’ h+lla oppy
i can’t f+ck with these clones feel like obi+wan ken0bi
g+got these p+ssies tryna know me just so they can get a verse
i’ma put you in a he+rs+ ‘fore you get me for some work
boy, i came up out the dirt, p+ssy boy, you gettin’ curved
you a slave to this game, i already shed my chains on ’em
d+ck suckin’ for the fame, you a lame, and i ain’t f+ck with ’em
p+poppin’ out the shadows just to show them how my game different
thinkin’ we the same? there ain’t no way, p+ssy, you straight trippin’
ride until i’m—
[chorus]
ride until i’m dead or ’til i make these tires pop
ride until i’m dead or ’til i make these tires pop+pop+pop+pop
d+d+d+d+dead or ’til i make these tires pop
ride until i’m dead or ’til i make these tires pop (perfect)

ride until i’m dead or ’til i make these tires pop
ride until i’m dead or ’til i make these tires pop+pop+pop+pop
d+d+d+d+dead or ’til i make these tires pop
ride until i’m dead or ’til i make these tires—

- delirium rapper lyrics

Random Lyrics

HOT LYRICS