Lyrics:
Puma Adidas
Couple treacherous killers, they were old school leaders
He gave them the order and some cash with a hoopty
Time for revenge, to get some
are losin'
Easy to get caught up, consumed by the consumer
Truth is so diluted, people starve off they confusion
Comfort is the killer, your dream's
Seven forty-six, wake up, hand on my dick
Lakers lost by thirty last night, I'm talking shit
Roll up a Backwood, killer in my spliff
Reading GQ
Seven forty-six, wake up, hand on my dick
Lakers lost by thirty last night, I'm talking shit
Roll up a Backwood, killer in my spliff
Reading GQ
By your side boy here I stand
If you're looking for a lover baby here I am
By your side boy here I stand
If you're looking for a lover baby here I am
the grease, burnin' candles in the teeth
Summoned by the killer who remembered the names of each
Southside cop killer queens
Circle the vehicle and squeeze
he's locked in a dirty room
with his dry eyes after the prom
the party passed thirty times by his mind
he's in a easy room for the darkness to find
discrete
Dropping bombs to leave them in disbelief
Debrief me when I enter the room cause
I’ll leave your carcass floating by the moon
That means outer space
bitch is
So don't get it twisted
I'm never pressed by nobody who's really for everybody
Flexible like pilates, bend over for Rice & Chinese
White, Right?
she'd live with no arm
That's what it felt like, got to the hospital, eyes held tight
They moved her room to room-she could tell by the light
Handcuffed
sleep while cold north wind blows
The snowflakes are falling, the roof a white blanket
There's ice on the window pane, she waits alone
She sits by
blatantlly horizontal
Models then swallowed by famished potholes
And I'm tired
Tied up on these functions
Killer cottoncandy clouds and huckleberry justice
and racks (and racks, and racks, and racks)
In church on a Sunday
I get it back to back, go to work on a Monday
White on white tracksuit, 'cause you know
by mid afternoon smoking blunts in my room
To whom ever this letter may concern
When bullets strike they burn more than the flesh of the ones hit
You
Errbody wana sell dope
Errbody wana be a killer
Somebody told me that life's hard
I said its harder to be a nigga
Born black in this white man world Is
white wings on the king has been steamin',
'Cause the green everything is really meanin',
Lusting for the cleaning,
By the angels, bang hell
And hypocrisy the name
Marilyn Manson has never celebrated the sad
Fact that America puts killers on
The cover of Time magazine
Giving them as much notoriety
The whole court room white, shit get awkward for real (all white)
You thinkin' ten, the judge offer the will
You hope your lawyer get killed (kill 'em)
I
pager, Off-White Guess jacket
Blue Air Max's, gold chains and curl kits
'93 Nissan wax job, the earliest
Big social, big personality, vocal
Played
stage by the front door
Your bitch like to party
Drunk off Bacardi
Henny or Duesse
It's anything you say
White girls I'm sorry
Don't play with Barbies
I'll sit alone
In my lonely room
Everyday hustle like William
Yeah
Everyday hustle like William
I'm chargin' a chicken just for the verse,
chants (shit)
I'm like, "I can't, but what about nuts?" (Yeah)
People erupt, whipped out the nuts, cheers
Off stage, head up to the dressing room
Lucky I'm mature now
I don't want smoke unless I can catch a body leave town
That's for sure now
Aston is four-door now
House by the white folks
Leak
stand up in court
I told my baby that I'm done with whores
Killers stick to me like glue because my love is pure
We fucking and you squirting, got
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