five - clipping. lyrics
[verse 1: daveed diggs]
where is the guillotine?
let ’em eat yellow cake
shooter with a nuclear family of k!llers
willing to juice the concentrate
fool it’s a sauna, light a fire under your honor
they’re talking life to a lifer, i’m liking the odds
gimme the water
give her the pill
give ’em the needle
beetle baileys of this world all getting k!lled someday
say partner, say dog
say what, say what’s going on?
pause
[verse 2: daveed diggs]
this is a stickup
stuckup motherf-cker come get some
jet some, he floss some flotsam
boss, um, they got salads to toss, um
crosses to burn, um, losses to learn from
collars to turn up
a tear the club up thug
a juicy-jay on a motherf-cker, they cuttin a rug up
a cut up motherf-cker looking like lady luck
so buck up young buck we got bucks like hoes got f-cks to give
she don’t give a f-ck, sh-t, you better not
[verse 3: daveed diggs]
heads high k!ll em with the k!ll em with the filament
you feeling it? a filibuster filling bust and feeling bust
you feel like busting out
bedside manner with some dead eye-candy
apple-red dye f-nny-pack, a sack of baby fat’d better back it up
where the t-tties at? show that kitty cat
better getting milky with the silky weave
sweating on the satin sheets
rap about it
be about it, be about it
beat it up, the beef is in the freezer
but he keep that heater creepin up
shorty boo, baby momma, make it clap
give it up, drop it low
push it, spread it, bite it, k!ll it, get it get it
throwing paper for the coochie
slapping gucci, rockin gucci
give her gucci, get’s the p-ssy
redder in the bed or in the car
whippin a rolls, rollin a blunt
d-ck in a ho, making it bump
faking the funk, seizin
partner it’s too seasoned
f-ck with a pimp-c walk, with a little bit of mouth
please turn em out, preach on a soapbox
botox, cold hot, ho watch it
[verse 4: daveed diggs]
who gonna f-ck with the trillest?
the building they building down there
on the block got no windows up in it
back like it’s crack for the roaches and rats
giving daps to the dividends, backhand a b-tch in the car
stars are for rappers, the televised trappers
this sh-t is the realest, that’s how come he feel it
so hard he will knock it while driving to work
and he work on the first and the fifteenth
when knox got the check in they pockets
he pick it, she lock it, she roll it and drop it
the acid is burning the weed
smoke it out, high as a bird from the trees
cali dro, cali go cataracts, freeze
hands in the sky
dive in and driving the lambo
and crying from coming down hard
pulling the card, carrying hood motherf-cker, my lord
b-lls of the word, scriptures is s-m-n, they seeming disturbed
flipping the bird, kicked to the curb
ya hunger with yams to be served
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