body bags - bawal clan lyrics
hook – ankthen brown:
yung n-gg- cud die
devils ain’t a li-iiiiiiiiiie
louis round my waist
hand up on da ni-iiiiiiine
is you down to ride
is you down to ri-iiiiiiide
yung n-gg- cud die
devils in da ni-iiiiiiight
lex luthoor:
beamed up and i’m down to ride
mobbing with the gang that’s bonafide
got the devil in my eyes that’s fortified
got 4? o 5? heaters get you mortified
get you body bags, tombstone and a casket
chop him down, put his head in a basket
burn him down till his pulse turn static
bring it back do it all again you b-st-rd!
you an -sset, get your -ss kicked! m-ssive!
talk that talk! why you tryna act p-ssive?
walk that walk! that sh-t automatic!
candy flip, got a little bit of acid
like an addict, in the attic, never panic
when it’s drastic, eyes satanic
from another planet. where the plant hit!
i ain’t with that talk sh-t, n-gg- f-ck a rhetoric!
verse: mic rahman
is you down for the long haul?
turn around and we long gone
goin rounds like we on call
move around like we on one
in da vicinity i know you feel it
80 decibel i know you hear it
f-ck around and you gon get it!
f-ck around and you gon get it!
f-ck you, make you wanna quit it
chump foo snitchin on em pigs
got blood from a line of kings
out here making more than trends
dumb b-tch got me vexed, though
spillin all dat henny on my uratex, hoe
gotem throwin out signs on set
steppin outta line, on brip
verse: ankhten brown
louis round my waste
hand up on da niiiiiine
devils in my brain
can’t waste no more tiiiiime
is you down to ride
is you down to riiiiiiide
i’ve made up my mind
can’t take no more liiiiies
sick of this bullsh-t. stressin’
workin’ hard, b-tch im flexin’
in my mind, lethal weapons
it don’t k!ll me, it strengthens
yung n-gg- been flyin
heavens in my eyyyyeeees
yung n-gg- cud die
h-ll up on my liiiiiiiiiiine
verse: rjay ty
who got the juice?! (yuh)
i’m sipping, i’m sipping, ain’t slipping but i’m getting loose (yuh)
my vision is flickering, flickering sparking a fuse (yuh)
the crew we be packing that fire tryna blow up the booth (yuh)
hand up on a nine and my finger be itching to shoot (yuh)
heard it through the grapevine
you just tryna fake shine
we ain’t playing games nah
sick up in the brain type
we just ain’t the same kind
told you we insane brah
we ain’t here to waste time
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