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chronic depression - yung tax collector lyrics

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[producer tag]
jammy on the beat, boy

[verse 1]
pull up to your girl, throw her baby off the cliff
speaking arabic and i’m driving stick*shift
breastfeeding my dog and i’m watching cl!ck
if i get a girlfriend, belle delphine’s my first pick
finna rob my grandma, i’m boutta hit a l!ck
commiting crimes like my first name is rick
get a nintendo switch, attract all the chicks
murder all the children like it’s order 66

[verse 2]
p**p all over the walls, leave with a trace
murder my mom like “get off of my case!”
cut my wrists, mom, it’s a scr*pe
born in the drip, i came out in bape
i can’t swim, but i’ll go in a lake
stick my head in an oven, tryna get baked
eating my dog for dinner like she’s a grape
you thought you was sl!ck, caught you in 4k

[interlude]
i mean, i would be fine with taking, like, you know, just a couple of pieces of the flinstone gummies. i mean, they’ve expired 12 years ago, but they’re still pretty good
[verse 3]
run from the fbi not tryna get caught
said i was gonna pay my taxes, ha! you thought
scrolling on the dark web, children i bought
in the yard with my baby and we fought

[verse 4]
gotta big stick like my name is darth maul
so much pee, it’s like that movie “crawl”
when i go p**p, i never close the bathroom stall
gotta botched surgery, now i have one ball
i’m 4’11” and my girl is really tall
i know i kidnapped you, but don’t give the feds a call
moving dead bodies like it’s a u*haul
drank a bottle of pepto*bismol, didn’t help at all

[verse 5]
running a ponzi scheme, i have a scam
but i’m so broke, i have to eat spam
eat the stuff between my toes, that’s good jam
pull up to the nursery and do body slams

[interlude 2]
and also, i love drinking expired milk, because, i mean, like, you know, if you’re, like, lactose intolerant, it’s already kind of cheese and milk at the same time, so

[verse 6]
pull up to the party with a 19*dollar fortnite card
come to my house, you’ll see me eating lard
cutting my wrist with a glass shard
pull up to your house, at your boulevard
lyrics so dark they belong in a graveyard
run a homeless person over in my sports car
not being a criminal, that’s pretty hard
fbi arrested me, i was caught off*guard

- yung tax collector lyrics

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