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down6 - perc 30s in rich children lyrics

what the f+ck you think you know about me?
hold you by the neck like vader, choking you out in your own genre, g
this perc+addicted failing medical student wake up extra early hating with hostile pleas
take you out ya own circles like tonsils, preaching your commands with aggression in the console, he+
rich enough to flaunt his daddy’s money and flush his system out with the acts of stunting
the knuckles hard like brass and the boy soft so i lay him out ‘fore he flashing something
you can’t stand the fact that i’m out here reinventing the community you happеn to be og of
tried to include ya but you bеnd the will in your own favor and let the procrastination be your own enemy, bruh
you nothing but a kiss+ass and disgrace while your patterns lack the passion you claim to display
your arm full of stripes like a zebra or barcode off a case of bud lights to easily swallow your perc 30s in the most reactive way
passing out by the day, in chat he yap so fast with passive cap in a massive chase
only negative energy fuelling that motherf+cker, so whenever the vision is not going his way
he cries and bursts in a rage, but the second you do it back he’s all of a sudden normal the whole time, mane
gaslighting to the maximum, you dont know the half of them
spazzy little cracker b+tch wanna tell me how to act, but imagine if the roles the switched, you’d choke like an asthma attack
practically shackled by our pasts so it’s a constant battle wondering who’s gonna be the first to f+cking snap
your bones are obviously the first thing shattering before you can even talk or gasp
i grasp you by the decayed soul as i phase through the ash
your whole family pile up like your parents’ cash
f+ck, i was only dreaming now i’m really about to bring my devotion
first, i’ll creep by your windows while you’re sleeping and dose your veins with a deadly potion
then fold and stuff you in a suit case as you’re dozed off without commotion
i timidly roll it through the park midday while the rotting smells are floating
i bought that suit case with my own f+cking bread, diamond+infused designer fabric that’s red
i f+cking burn money because it means nothing and doesn’t help me get ahead
dump you over while listening to greenfield17 and running from the feds
your soul was taken by the second you talked behind a screen once again
counter act the malice with foul spit, childish pouting b+tch secretly wanna steal my style switch
defiled wit isn’t mild this jit is wild as sh+t, for miles i kick this shy little kid ’til he files for a hit
slapped yo’ ass in the head at 92.8 miles per hour and the spine cracks at your neck
going through at least 28 brick walls, casually putting your ass in medical debt
supplying you joint pain as a high disguised empowered edgy nonthreat
reminding kindly i don’t ponder nicely to aggression that’s simply too direct
fuse the atoms of your corpse together with the dirt of your driveway at your own residence
take each piece and organize them into different parts and sections, b+tch
hyper self aware of every microbiome and muscle in my projections which
tend to the cling to my desires to tear apart anyone who’s a waste of sp+ce to thy testament
whose car you driving? yo daddy’s money in them tires, ain’t it?
hahaha, i get zero help from that side so it’s funny how wired you get about the spoiled f+cked brain pryer before you made it
you glazed harder then my girl who gives me brain, b+tch
10k isn’t something you can just play with
4 foot 0 without a forehead where you stand
the most disappointing attempt of an artist that stinks with dread
you haven’t slept in weeks benjamin, i’m the devil on your shoulder poking you for a dance
behead said snitch with my hands, my vengeance stay pending as i’m piecing this through my pen
everybody in the underground tired of this young sheldon pelting nonsense, not a godsent
now all you do benefit, reusing acapellas from our friends thinking “oh h+ll, this kicks, no other option”
but failed to make anything actually f+cking interesting, i fell asleep on the 2nd track of the project
frankly sick of this lowlife, i’m an old man compared to you so it’s fair to assume this f+ggot soon hit a quarter+life crisis that’ll consume any good trait and now only thrashing energy endlessly
as they pass out in the family living room, pimping themselves with no desire to keep their values in a groove
suite life of zack & cody lookin’ ass with an average white f+ckboy outfit
must’ve found your jeans from the lost and found or bought it with some counterfeits
lately your daddy making you shout and fit for the extra money in your bank account, b+tch
“no more green, benji, you are grounded”
you huff and puff in the corner for 10 minutes with your fist balled tight
then get told to go to your room after dinner tonight
you decide to clear off anything musically beneficial towards your name
it’s okay, there’s a billion other motherf+ckers like you and practically the same
came back to rap and only dropped a demo track? the f+ck is that?
i could go for years and at the very least finalize everything on my hard drives stacked
next time, actually put in some f+cking effort in revitalizing the track
you stumbled so much through infinite choppers 2 and glazed kal paseo then ended up keeping him in your past
he at least has value towards the composition compared to your major little wack hits
i stay on my grind like a back lip, kick his feet from under him making his scrawny ass backflip
1000 times in a second, his body particles accelerate and shatter in reaction
i take each fiber of his soul and morph him into a breed related to a quadriplegic’s passion
this f+ckboy passing through the mist with a diss that’s not even ass so i had to persist
at least he ain’t dna tru lyricist, well actually, most his lyrics copy all the old raps that david did
he mentioned both names as if it were a cold case choking the whole game
but the only time he ever made benji choke or folding is when his crack mother f+cked mr. phelps in the hotel 6 tripping off a heroin haze and gobbling his chode while he sits
coldly always left her with a bruise and swollen lips
then out birthed a little fetus named benjamin 9 months later in that bathtub from the saw movie
then came the sock stuffed in his throat from his father attempting k!ll his ass for insurance claims
but for some reason gave him a second chance and cried for weeks and came up with a rap name
as a coping mechanism under “919slum” but his son pestered with him for the sad name and changed it to dna like some bum
man, i’m so sick of your sh+t
even the hierarchy of the idols you praise want you to quit
tired of this child’s malarky that hardly ever garners some hits
both feet stomping yo’ head so hard that you reach the earth’s core in f+ckin’ 3 seconds, b+tch
hand grabbing the back of his head folding him together and turning him inside out while his organs fell and bled
left his family 10k in bread for the taxidermy of benjamin
open casket funeral for 919scum while playing a down6 album with speakers on the volume 110%
acting fake hood in your other friend groups, you ain’t no crook, t++thing off a bean out committing treason
you a lonely creature i’ll dissect through various tests of the sun rays hitting your rotten pale skin whilst your beaten
just to make sure you’ll see and definitely feel the fury that holds within my zen that i can control depending on how i medicate
browse through yo city, i won’t hesitate, foul play no pity with this centered play
i can measure the f+cks, i don’t give with nothing ’cause there’s nothing there in the first place
i graduated before you knew to how to count a bar or correctly drive a car without swerving off of withdrawals and not going far, mane
i straight serve a diss aimed at what they reputate
abandoned careers to vanish, no salmon left on his plate, the famine taking its place
hopeless to be so clean with his antics that he display
but i must leave him in the green field, 17 feet deep under where i stay
he won’t ever be the same after i maim his face on the barbwire fence in a rage
he was never real to me in the first f+cking place
stop talking like you know me, homie, or the i95 is where you’ll decay
down his entire bathroom cabinets and now he’s on the floor googling “how to never stop being sad” he swayed
he’ll try and try again to end his worth but every time he b+tches that we take it too vague
i hope he goes through with it and sees the black crows peck his face
“the eyes to the ceiling real to me too” he thought, before he was curb stomped and taken away
i tried to be yo’ homie in the first f+cking place but you always make it difficult and only antagonize to get your way
what rhymes with i95benji?
high whiny five year old brain that’s empty
i might devise the repenting of the chimes that hive the mind of the entity
burn his house down where his siblings live unmenacingly
smoke the ash of the remaining corpses and see your asses appear in front me like that movie friday
don’t f+ck with me, instantly banished before they even saw me approach in their soul’s crying face
not even treachery gonna be the only thang
i’ll strike you with rays powerful enough to send you back to the mayan days
and have my ancestors stone you alive with rocks found near the high end caves
tie you to a stake, mutilate hoping to resurrect but you’ll die directly in a lake
i am that sent+being on its break
you are fent feign and a fake
you live in immense dreams that are late
you need to ascend deep in a pray
your family prefer you as a christian anyway
leap away from taking any blame for the hate
that ensues as soon as the buffoon lets loose in disturbing ways
edge doom through affirmative waves but then you left the label with no logic displayed
i got six eyes open,stalking you like my prey
you ain’t got no b+tches, the riches only fill you with hate
if i fought six of you at the same time i’d win, that’s a dismiss of the case
f+ck it, one hundred clones of you with a steak knife would still run away before even thinking of approaching this way
boasting fake glory in assortments on instagram
i’ll instantly slam you with intent to instantly cram
chin to hand, limb to limb into a unique fold or stance
coldest pants ’cause he’s so p+ssed he explode with fluids in an instant chant
anti+pacifist matching six with the wackest drip, that f+ggot kid need to pack his sh+t
and move to the back of whatever abortion clinic dumpster they tried to trash him in
hazardous backstabbing behind everybody so now the match is lit
buddy buddy with everyone before i can get my track to drop and sh+t, the fastest piece of sh+t
i’m regulated like i’m magnesium, b+tch, and still tag teaming your mother, she scream for six
all you do us spaz in the room right next to us tryna eq out the moaning and she never gon’ quit
afterward, i write a 10 minute scripture with a mesopotamian kick
at least 95 different dudes piled inside the room tryna get a taste of what benji’s mother can get

- down6 lyrics

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