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meat to the hills - tuberculosis twins lyrics

[intro: mc lunshabul]
shout*out all my indian homies
feathers, not dots
*inaudible yelling*

[verse 1: mc lunshabul]
pop a melatonin, call me pill d*ckle
i can’t pick a fit, i’m feeling real fickle
nine*tone watch my wrist, feeling real simple
prada on my waist, take it off to tinkle
wine bottle, that’s three words
nine bottles of bratwurst
sausage on the stove, it’s getting hotter
he casting on my face, i’m harry potter
burping on the track, got that acid reflux
filming off the smack, got around like three cucks
watching on my ass, i need me like three bucks
pockets getting fat, like they need a tummy tuck
this those vasectomy bars
yo’ man keep texting me hard
throwing down somе meat in the car
bug juice whеn i go to the bar

[chorus: mc lunshabul & lil’ tizm]
hide my face when i’m eating ass
these hoes want my number, like i’m teaching class
bros before the hoes, what if the hoes is the bros?
show my meat to the hills, yea, my booty ho’
[verse 2: lil’ tizm]
i’m in her b*tt, i make her shake like bambi
i watch b*tches catchin’ b*lls, boog sciambi
two out, two down, bases empty
i rub my buss all on his face, like it’s made by fenty
i’m stroking on his meat, i’m goin’ real dumb
he bussin’ everywhere, like it’s horse cum
i’ma tie your n*gga up, i’ma take your fella
i’ll put a whip to his back and call it antebellum
i’ll take your incense stick and put it in my meat*hole
i’m gonna chew all on your d*ck, like an egg roll
i’m gonna fist you up to the shoulder
i’ll make that hole so big, it turns into a cup holder

- tuberculosis twins lyrics

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