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axl rose (white walls) - duke a.g. lyrics

rollin down the street, car rocks set of switches
axl rose, no hydraulics, do you get it b-tches
rockin guns and roses hand gently set it twitches
on the trigger as he bites down on the end it hits his
frontal, disgruntled, this little c-nt is just seven inches
from his demise, watch him c-ck back, sets the finch his
only words for the birds is to spread them wings and
fly motherfuckers, die, other fuckers use syringes
i prefer a different kind of shot but that aside
last straw, step on the petals, hey, i guess that’s a ride
hay riding, get it yet, naw, b-tch hats aside
i’m pedal to the metal, fuck a stock, i’m a mastermind
fully upgraded, and updated, with an alibi
and his flow’s all that, no amanda bynes
said his flow’s all that, no tampa time
yeah he’s eastern, something like a motherfuckin’ panda i’m
silent as a pantomime

i’m so sick, sinister
sick as minister
touching ya sister
they hug and fuck and kiss her

this shit is sick bruh, the illest realest scripture
ya get the fuckin’ picture, i’m off a gram no insta
i’m on my fuckin’ tinder, i’m laying logs like timber
just kidding, tinders for narcissistic pigs, you’s a sick fuck
duke you just lost half your fan base, why fuckin’ this up, because you d-ck suckin’ shits missing metaphors while you get yo shit fucked
just cuz you met a four of a reddit forum, you think you in love
no fucker you in for a treat, just hit that sick slut like a sick pup, drown her in d-ck or crowne her like vick, either way just get your shit up
then put her body back in the coughin’ b-tch, you sick fuck
you can lick suck, stick tuck and sip duck, that’s a pecker peking out your neck ring while you d-ck suck
you fuckin’ stiff cuck, you b-tch buck, let’s get shucked, a corny motherfucker, never change, fuck a tip cup
this kids tough, as shit son, i said don’t get rough
‘less you lookin’ for a whoopin’ like a cushion, sit up
so sit back, relax, throw your fucking kicks up
baby, grab a drink and kick back with a sip cup
this shits cuff, and i’m off it, on my wic stuff
stomping on these fruits, food stamps, get it yet son
i bet not, the bets off, put your bets up
the kids bluff’ll pick up, something like a tricked truck
so give fucks, or don’t, cuz i don’t give much
just walked into the party, i’m already on my fifth cup
my fifth fifth, my sixth hit, and my next fuck
my seventh heaven, eighth eighth, ninth life, and tenth chuck
i ain’t talkin’ shoes although i got it on em, sick’s stuck
to the holes in his soles and cuts in his slick stuff
this shits done, sorry for this pent up
anger, consider this payback for the days when the kids fucked
with him, now the rhythm got em hittin’ up the kid for
xanies cuz they heard he spittin’ bars, minus mitzvah

- duke a g lyrics

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