terrance escobar - *cult* lyrics
leh’ do it
gang, gang-gang, gang, gang, gang, gang-gang-gang, gang, gang
leh’ do it
had to run my racks up
throw that -ss back baby girl back that -ss up
piped up in this b-tch, with my bl–dy
that’s my plasma
whoadie keep a stick ain’t no jitt
he might blast ya
you speaking to the jury
heard you snitching, sneaky b-st-rd
preaching to these children
b-tch i feel just like a pastor
whipping foreign coupes; i’m the master
fifty chains, mr. t no pity for these b-st-rds
money always speak to me
i need to get it faster
these n-ggas can’t compete with me
you know i’m moving faster
she like, ” you don’t speak to me”
cause’ b-tch you do not matter
she trying to come sleep with me
can’t hold her like my bladder
and i’m stocked up
p-ssy n-gga wanna run up on me
he get glocked up
12 -ss lurking wanna see a n-gga locked up
stayed down i been working
then them bands, yeah they popped up
chiefing on this good dope i feel just like a rasta
all my n-ggas dreaded up they look just like some shottas
pull up we just wet it up, we look just like some mobsters
really i don’t give a f-ck i’m just like my father
had to run my racks up
throw that -ss back baby girl back that -ss up
piped up in this b-tch, with my bl–dy
that’s my plasma
whoadie keep a stick ain’t no jitt
he might blast ya
you speaking to the jury
heard you snitching, sneaky b-st-rd
preaching to these children
b-tch i feel just like a pastor
whipping foreign coupes; i’m the master
fifty chains, mr. t no pity for these b-st-rds
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