Lyrics:
descendant
Born of the ancient kind
Raised by the spirits of divinity
I bow to no master
I call my blood my own
I'm unrepentant in defiance of their heresy
I
armor but I ain't pulling up with no knife
Armed like Arm and Hammer Mc Hammer touch me I might
Need to grab the hammer you might have to call it a night
getting money
Smoking L's by the hundreds
We got blow, we got molly
We got blood on the money, dedicated to the money
Killing niggas for the money,
advance
Blood of Bannockburn
Point of no return
Join the Scottish revolution
Freedom must be won by blood
Now we call for revolution
Play the pipes
I had my eyes squinched up tryin' to get through the fog
Pullin' up mad slow blunted, passin' police cars
I saw one two three bodies
Blood mixed
Ayo it's war on the street, blood on the cobblestone
I leave 'em buried alive, just like a fossil bone
Body bags line the streets, reporters
scammers
They'll kill for, I had to buy 'em hammers
My phone ring, my mama call me
If it ain't 'bout no money, she don't never call me
She said she had
and scrip 9 minute EF three
Playin by different bitches cuz my face in the paper
Profile done although she couldnt describe me I got the eraser
I don't
smoking dope
But you don't want no smoke
Sending shots
Bodies drop
Do not call the cops
I be going into shops
Pulling out glocks
Stealing all their stocks
know CJ got all three
No Migos now it's CJ on free flow
Don't get stitched like Lilo and then snitch
Stick to the G-code
Need me a reload, trap, jugg for
Heeeeey
What's happenin, y'all?
This is Tyrone Chillinfoot down with the funky Tung Twista, baby
[number] inches of straight stupid, straight
Bring down the hammer
Give them a little twist
Now
Now
Slaughter
This is how revolutions start it
Always begins with an angry voice and
Spreads the fire
cane, 'cause it's only 3 inches
But she still sucking on it and she tells me it's delicious
I tell her to go all the way 'cause my nut is nutritious
I
never be me
More than rims and inches, talking limbs and lynching's
Cut from the cloth of the cotton that my granny picked
Work like an amputee, ain't
on TV could never be me
More than rims and inches, talking limbs and lynching's
Cut from the cloth of the cotton that my granny picked
Work like
Memano kakra sh3 neho
Charle fuck it fuck it
Fuck it
Call me the boss
Call me the boss
Fuck all your thoughts
My nigga just profit no loss
Call me the boss
the plan is
We going to rob them one
By one, humiliate them enough to
Make them lose credibility, feel me?
Yeah, I feel ya
Good, now see that ho over there
of bitches comin' by the twos
I got a lot of bitches, Balmain buy a few
Big di-diamonds but we call 'em jewels
All these racks think I sell dog foods
I
They call us trending topics
I just look around and I can see we are the optics
These words align like pure divine let's say a prophet
Takeoff
it bump
Spark the L and raise it up
I'm 'bout to pull up in the A-T-L, eighteen inches and five screens
Old folks on the side and they reachin'
winds In a smithy high up in the skies On an anvil of honour with a hammer of blood The Four Winds pounded Battle Battle Metal! Battle Battle Metal!
held the torch on the porch,
She winked an eye
Reason it is written on the brambles
Stranded on the spikes - my blood red, oh listen:
Remember
the torch on the porch,
She winked an eye
Reason it is written on the brambles
Stranded on the spikes my blood red, oh listen:
Remember those times I
I be as smooth
As my man Dr york?
(girls crack up) I see not!
Yo i'm smoother than the
Bottom of Hammer's shoes
After three hundred spins
No love
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