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 #

yung flex - virulence lyrics

[intro]
evil

[verse 1: yung flex]
that sh+t you p+ssed ’bout, sh+t, i prolly did it
talk, i bet that glock gon’ make your jaw lock like it’s molly in it
we ain’t hardly start, you think this hard, but, b+tch, i’m hardly spittin’
ball like i’m john wall, i need that money tall as scottie pippen, like, ugh
he can’t take it, but that b+tch can dish it
.223, that brand new arp, and this sh+t mint condition
pull up to your house, and air it out like ain’t no windows in it
nine straight to his jaw, like, f+ck the law, nah, they can’t f+ckin’ pin it
n+ggas must be paralyzed if they ain’t feelin’ me
half these n+ggas rappin’ parasites, like, where the guillotines?
motherf+cker, your squad, get right with god, ’cause, b+tch, y’all finna meet
i be goin’ hard, these n+ggas soft, can’t match my energy
like, c’mon, come tеst my gangsta, b+tch
bronem cuttin’ up, i’m in a cut just like a razor, b+tch
up that flame and torch him, brand nеw forces, can’t even chase the b+tch
violence, i endorse it, use his blood and sh+t to chase the fifth

[verse 2: blckk]
(yeah) yeah, uh
feature price gon’ match how much it take to get me bags, you b+tch
y’all can tell what i got on without no f+ckin’ tags, you b+tch (yeah)
put that boy inside a f+ckin’ box and let him catch me, b+tch (yeah, yeah, woah, yeah, yeah)
and y’all can’t pass me, b+tch, i wake up, do my print, and homeboy never catch you trashin’ sh+t (yeah, bap, yeah, yeah, yeah)
yeah, you need some practice, b+tch
been ’round where you stayin’, smoke that block out like a magic trick (yeah, yeah, yeah)
yeah, f+ck no, ain’t no touchin’ me (b+tch(
keep on pushin’ in
f+ckin’ f+ggots, you can’t f+ck with me (yeah, yeah, yeah)
ask about who see me, post up, dnd (yeah)
on that sh+t you built and prolly live for, this sh+t ain’t with me (woah, woah)
got too much hate inside my f+ckin’ soul
bet you all that talkin’ ’bout me, prolly take his f+ckin’ tongue (yeah, yeah)
i hope you got barricades, you p+ssy (bow, bow)
ayy, i’m f+ckin’ cold
and i talk that sh+t until i’m dead, until my pockets full (yeah)
[outro]
evil

- yung flex lyrics

Random Lyrics

HOT LYRICS