Lyrics
The bags on the table ain't for weight
They for body parts
Victim skin stretched across the wall
Call it body art
Bodies for the pile
Bring 'em out stacked on the dolly cart
Anybody out there ain't on drugs
Yeah they should probably start (smoke somethin')
This too real
Talkin' bout your life's a movie when the party start (turn up)
But you ain't pick a genre little bitch
That wasn't hardly smart
The script was shit
Your third act really drags
The structure falls apart
So here the fixer comes
Clipping limbs to serve them a-la carte
The horror show was so wack
You said you'd never go back
But you standin' over the stove
Talkin' bout you really know crack
Crack is what a skull do
So if someone gettin' brained
That means it was nice to know you
The spinal fluid a go-to
To thicken the pot
The clique out in the whip
Whippin' the snot out
A submissive 'til he shit blood
You thought they was dickin' a thot
You got your rap shit fucked up
Match stick tucked up under the tongue
Pour the oil, smell the sulfur, then you run
I'm rollin' up in the back of a G wagon
I'm always on G status
.40 on my lap that's the heat package
I'm from a hood where we beat rappers (beat those pussy as niggas)
We way to grimey we don't see rappers (don't see y'all niggas)
They 'sposed to be street but really they actors
I really be with the jackers
The one who be clappin' shit
And pistol packing
Niggas who really trappin'
Cocaine selling
With 60 in they mattress
(Stacking nigga)
And do it with passion
This how these bitches be doing their lashes
I hate niggas that sit on they asses (fuckin' hate y'all niggas)
Always askin'
But ain't making shit happen
Get out of my way I'm craftin'
We laughing
Let me spark my matches
Yo, I hope you niggas can jet
'Cause you dealing with a rapper
That smoke contenders for rec
Real dope boy
I cook coke and interval
Stretch diamonds right out of pot
Everything invisible set, yeah
Yeah, trunk got pies in it
Disappeared in 5 minutes
The plug took the team where
We never been like Kawaii Leonard
Tote straps, never smoked jack
But go live wit it
In my book that's dry snitchin'
But that's only my opinion
Gangsta's know
Killers stay patient till he found something
Chill but like a real estate agent
When he house huntin'
Rolex dial studded
Feds say my time flooded
Put another chain on my neck
And I'mma drown from it
El Padrino in an El Camino
If you bitch, get a jive, switch
And sell what's legal
We might smile ear to ear
But you can tell we evil
These rap niggas dye their hair just to sell some singles
The Butcher!
Rock, paper, ice pick
Nice trick, no homonym
Cut outs from a magazine
Make letters for your mom and them
Who remember arts and crafts
These killers is artisans
With an arsenal to elevate your arteries
Start again
Rock, paper, zip tie
That slow burn, that drip dry
That fissures in your field of vision
Make your world a fish-eye
That round edge make it worser
When the bubble burst you just cry
Layed on the floor without a tongue trying to ask why
Rock, paper, gunshot
Passing out in some spots
If you prefer the sweet life maybe you can die like gum drops
Smooth and round and melting, if you're left out where the suns hot
This the preferred method of smart killers and dumb cops
WRITERS
Daveed Diggs, Jeremie Pennick, Jonathan Snipes, William Hutson
PUBLISHERS
Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Songtrust Ave
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