sus phixion - here we go again (chopped & screwed) lyrics
[verse 1: germ & yung $now]
line, line, line
line, line, line
line, line, line
line, line, line
ayy, ayy, ayy, ayy
i just might ride with your b-tch
told her i loved her, lying like sh-t
i just might ride with your b-tch
told her i loved her, lying, lying like sh-t
i’m still boolin’ tho, bleedin’ concrete, bleedin’ concrete, snortin’ oxys
feelin’ god body like who gon stop me now?
runnin’ round while blowin’ pound after pound
see me now? get hip, get it now, i’m gone til’ november
got, got into pickin’ pockets kinda often, big -ss, gas bag
p-ssenger side of the cad-cadillac, seat slightly sat
on my on my side, i got my baghdad, hotel hoppin’
bombin’ back-back, dynamite in the gucci, knapsack
ruckus in the church, jesus meet this heathen he kinda hurt
buzzin’ i’m loud, never stoppin’ til’ they stick me in the dirt
[verse ii: $l!ck $loth]
took a benzo, wrote a manifesto
yung hot boy from, from the ghetto
yung $carecrow dyin’ where the wind blows
cutthroat motherf-cker robbin’ when my ends low
$outh $ide $uicide
wanna ride in the caddy like do or die
formaldehyde leakin’ drippin’, drippin’ down in my eyes
terrified when you see me creepin’ in the night
ride like no limit in ’96
stunt like i’m wayne on the carter six
now, now i got money to get a fix
now my old ex wanna be my b-tch
this that motherf-ckin’ gospel
kanye i’m a motherf-ckin’ monster
c-ck back, put the barrel in your tonsil
$uicide, b-tch, we the council
[verse iii: yung $now]
yung $now spent a fat check
pull up cause i’m pickin’ up a hoe black, black dress
silk sheets on the mattress match the blood type o on the hatchet
match the hunnid spokes when i whip it lookin’ like the cadillac
lookin’, lookin’ like a car accident, spilled my guts and i spilled my cup
lean on my liver i ain’t sippin’, sippin’ it up
hollow out a f-ck boy skull so i can sip in peace, peace my g
don’t follow me cause bad sh-t happens with germ and $l!ck
that, that makes three, sad to see these casualties, they lack the seeds
no matchin’ me, these bags of weed
yeah, that’s, that’s for free, we trash the scene no gasoline
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