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grimebag! - undead papi lyrics

it’s that grimebag
sprinkle meth up in ‘ya f*ckin dime bag
word that sh*t hit?
i got you smoking cyanide gas
ya b*tch up in the slaughter house
she might not arrive back
barber with the glizzy push ya mother f*ckin lining back
brain splatter with a buckshot
hit ya b*tch with the b*tt stock
‘ion got no mother f*ckin opps
’cause the tool bang with a red dot
close range with a f*ckin headshot
head top
make ’em mother f*ckin mags drop
don’t say ‘nun
pump make a b*tch n*gga back up
act up
b*tch i c*ck it back and i rack one
all y’all n*ggas soft b*tch i’ll show you where the crime at
pull up to ya crib, lay everyone inside flat
fmj green tips, where you finna hide at?
spin ya block i let it off, everyonе outside wacked
feds comе ’round this motherf*cka, you best not have sh*t to say
aiming for ya head, tell ya dead brother you on ya way
chain smoking opp packs, ya b*tch be my ash tray
you on death row n*gga, this gone be ya last day
hit that n*gga point blank, f*cked up my designer jeans
simp ass n*gga, she was thotting, you call her a queen
all y’all n*ggas ass, ima take a sh*t up on the scene
drive by, walk up, i up that glock 17
spill out ya guts when i dump out this magazine
leave ’em stomach f*cked like he drank a whole pint of lean
spray that tool like windex, make sure his crib clean
it’s gone be a cookout if the pigs try to intervene
f*ck!

- undead papi lyrics

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