Under The Coffin (feat. Jay Rome & Capibara)

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Ansh

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Five percent tint, my windows (windows)
Ten bites from, black widow (woo!)
Mark of my goals like, bingo (bingo)
Dope like the pope, Francisco (rack it up)
(Shh, be quiet tip-toe)
Five percent tint, my windows (windows)
Ten bites from, black widow (boom)
Mark of my goals like, bingo (bingo)
Dope like the pope, Francisco (back it up)
Dope like the pope, Francisco (Yuh)

The internet's a dark place, mind the malice
The web ain't my domain, hand it to Miles Morales
Stallion he is, with mind filled talent
Eyes like a hawk, flow so sharp, test my talons

Test me

Press me

Don't fess to me

You ain't my guy that's right on the button
Don't act sheepish, man like mutton

Brodie I gotta tell you suttin
My verse ain't whack, your taste is shit
Brodie I gotta tell you suttin
I can take your flak, them words ain't shit
Brodie don't stay silent
Weren't it last night that you promised me violence
Hop in the whip no mileage
Call me on money replying
How come the opps keep dying
Regardless- that's a pack that I'm buying
Street like a kitchen, chopping and flipping and cutting on chickens
Too deep in this shit to confront an addiction
Told me I can't so I'm back on a mission
Stealing my energy, nuclear fission
Tell me to quit, won't make any difference

Five percent tint, my windows (ayy!)
Ten bites from, black widow (widow)
Mark of my goals like, bingo (les go)
Dope like the pope, Francisco (cisco)
(Shh, be quiet tip-toe) (what?!?)
Five percent tint, my windows
Ten bites from, black widow (widow)
Mark of my goals like, bingo (woo!)
Dope like the pope, Francisco (cisco)
Dope like the pope, Francisco

Yuh
F*ck your idol
F*ck a title
F*ck the tidal, waves
It's hot, next degree it's lit
Sit down and quit
To the teeth I grit
Itty bitty bitch, with a Fitbit
End of the day, how much distance
Lustful lips, she'd leave u with slit wrists
Alcohol it's dipped in, It's all in the scriptin'
By tomorrow you know she gon' leave in an instance

Under the coffin, six feet under
Bad lil bitch tryna steal my thunder
Ringer he is, POW POW, revolver
Seven, with one in the chamber
Holler

Pick up the phone
Pick up the pace
Pass over the- (Ugh)

Again

Pick up the phone
Pick up the pace
Pass over the rope, and tie ya neck like a shoelace (Yuh)
Erase your name, from the game
Aim for brain, and steal ya grace
Feel the bass (Boom)
Leave no trace
'Cept for white lines of chalk
Body in a box, see you've talked your talk (shh)
Blocked by bumble-bee tape, Reach the fire escape
Assassinate real individuals from the fake
Bag your body, yank your guts
And stuff faux shit like a taxidermy (yuh)
Hours later, she a traitor, to the guy that she would cater (yeah)
Then with his drink they would tink
Eyes wide open, without a blink

Okay, under the coffin, six feet under (stack it up)
Bad lil bitch tryna steal my thunder (rack it up)
Ringer he is, POW POW, revolver (back it up)
Seven, with one in the chamber (woke)
Holler
Under the coffin, six feet under (stack it up)
Bad lil bitch tryna steal my thunder (rack it up)
Ringer he is, POW POW, revolver (back it up)
Seven, with one in the chamber (woke)
Holler

Don't know who you're workin' with
Rap game archaeologist's got bones to pick (run it up)
Never show your face round here no more
It's a silent kill, we slit your vocal chord (woah)
Your casket is right here, your death is quite near
Whisper you a message in your right ear, ay
Miki comin' in with the hit squad, pissed off
Style's wild, even stab your neck with a zinc rod
We know, toss your life away like a free-throw
Vitro, got the blood stainin' all sheets though
Playing duck duck goose with ya hoes, ya bros
Russian Roulette, usually how the bullshit goes
My guns must be gay how they be blowin' n shit
We don't discriminate, as long as you got loans to split (yeah)
Meet my lil bredren, the murderous weapons (uh)
First name Smith, yeah, second name Westin

Kill it, Kill it, Kill it, Kill it

Blood we spill it
The flows we kill it
The caskets fill it
You just a digit

The store no budget
With life I f*ck it
Control u puppets
The bars I book it

There ain't no limit
Pay you a visit
End you in a minute
A one-way ticket

Your grave I dug it
Rap game we took it
The wrist we flood it
Bring Da Ruckus

Under the coffin, six feet under
Bad lil bitch tryna steal my thunder
Ringer he is, POW POW, revolver
Seven, with one in the chamber
Holler (okay)
Under the coffin, six feet under
Bad lil bitch tryna steal my thunder
Ringer he is, POW POW, revolver
Seven, with one in the chamber
Holler

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