Under The Coffin (feat. Jay Rome & Capibara)
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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Written by: Alex Wright, Ansh Saini, Mikolaj Romanski
Lyrics © DistroKid
Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind
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"Under The Coffin (feat. Jay Rome & Capibara) Lyrics." Lyrics.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 1 Jun 2024. <https://www.lyrics.com/lyric-lf/8055321/Ansh/Under+The+Coffin+%28feat.+Jay+Rome+%26+Capibara%29>.
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