set it off - yung dmize lyrics
[verese 1: yung dmize]
don’t let the [?] chain go to your head
i’m gonna go upside your chest with a clip full of lead
and we can get it poppin’ g
n0body finna be stoppin’ me
rap terrorism, you can find me actin’ radically
actually, send a few shots, take you home me
gun smokin’, leave ya chokin’, so ya homies know it’s me
down for whatever like m*o*p
got the glock 19, it’s d*m*i*z*e
doomshop what i’m reppin’ ’til i r.i.p
six feet beneath the street, and even them i’mma keep it clean
they sayin’ if you imitate me, it’s a form of flattery
i catch you in the streets, it’s called assault and battery
[hook: yung dmize]
bring the drama if you want the issue
i got the ratchet, i’ll bash it
providin’ caskets for whoever with you
it’s like world war 3 in this bit’
spittin’ rounds that make you hold me like the pope in the ditch
so, bring the drama if you want the issue
i got the ratchet, i’ll bash it
providin’ caskets for whoever with you
it’s like world war 3 in this bit’
spittin’ rounds that make you hold me like the pope layin’ dead in the ditch
[verse 2: lil kaine]
12 to his domes, flush him out in his lexus
bubble goose got hoes, now the duckas breathless
like a white boy b*tch, i’m known to get reckless
flappin’ out yo’ sh*t, you get served like some breakfast
feelin’ astronomical, gettin’ philosophical
bad brain, math brain, see it through my optical
i’m gassin’ through the river light
shinin’ though the rebel right
feelin’ fright, i’m the only one that you see in sight
feelin’s right, cold air in the f*ckin’ [?] spot
feelin’ all my moves, matchin’ passion with the given light
laughing gas for the past
i tell you that the feeling’s right
lost in translation, abrasive, ’cause i feel it’s right
[hook: yung dmize]
bring the drama if you want the issue
i got the ratchet, i’ll bash it
providin’ caskets for whoever with you
it’s like world war 3 in this bit’
spittin’ rounds that make you hold me like the pope in the ditch
so, bring the drama if you want the issue
i got the ratchet, i’ll bash it
providin’ caskets for whoever with you
it’s like world war 3 in this bit’
spittin’ rounds that make you hold me like the pope layin’ dead in the ditch
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