Текст песни
and me and my alibis gonna watch you die gettin high
more tequila hay smokin on the mota
Lana look it my pocket fuck it my rock, sin city blabin long we drop atomic bombs
So sick and wicked bitches, nobody wanna die thats why i got me this so far from your head as we celebrate, riders we fighters with nine lives an live nines
We killing up your whole family and anybody your close to, so why beat the grim reaper cuz is time to get paid
We rumble never touch by sun i rather go than getting some, we bout to ride somebodys gonna die day of the dead and we tacking hell alive
Ain t nobody sicka death today in my clicka hit em with a vengens all you, dumbass i siad you delincual the kids always i gotta put my hands on ya, dooms soon as booted chance celebrating the damn day
Pass me the industry impala we drive by some chevy impalas, havin you sit on a room havin a six feet metal watch no more than six feet
Nobody is having it i end up graving it letin you havin it, with a nine nine shots to my casket droppin and representin las vegas
Oh yea they want us to take each other out, nobody wanna die thats why i got me this so far from your head as we celebrate, now that you know this song you know we come to close
Should of told your mamma get your casket ready left to lie, even when were fresh we keep hitem up your odds Doomsday, ahhh gets a evil lestic ment to rush
They find your ass with weasky peats your body is decade, we go back to being slaves, this is out for the click fucked up with the homeboy you clicks
Dia de los muertos, this is out for the click fucked up with the homeboy you clicks
Oh yea they want us to take each other out, i say we get those madafuckers together
Lana look it my pocket fuck it my rock, when i commit a shited sometin bout them blody guts
it means what now
Day of the dead, oh yea they want us to take each other out, i say we get those madafuckers together
Creepin to your sin all your bitches runnin high cuz we redim all tonight, today is the dead day swamp think today ill be the gang i fuck Doomsday, bitch i rise with my doom click all day and everyday
and me and my alibis gonna watch you die gettin high
We go back to being slaves, it means what now
but dispute about this shit cuz
wana ride i got my teck nine from my side every madafucken click i wanna kill
set you on fire murda and don t bring no mercy with me
set you on fire murda and don t bring no mercy with me
On the day i die with a mic on my hand and a fat ass lip, whos gonna fuck with this means i m brave
Ain t nobody sicka death today in my clicka hit em with a vengens all you, day of the dead, on the day i die with a mic on my hand and a fat ass lip
Dumbass i siad you delincual the kids always i gotta put my hands on ya, til the ship blow up or we have it sold up watch how the money flows, dooms soon as booted chance celebrating the damn day
Ahhh gets a evil lestic ment to rush, gota stick one in your dick skinin you alive
Intensify my thoughts of homicide can t live this life, death madafuken truth lets do this shit like we suppose to Of, sin city blabin long we drop atomic bombs
We bout to ride somebodys gonna die day of the dead and we tacking hell alive, oh yea they want us to take each other out
But dispute about this shit cuz, ain t nobody sicka death today in my clicka hit em with a vengens all you
Dumbass i siad you delincual the kids always i gotta put my hands on ya, today is the dead day swamp think today ill be the gang i fuck
Pass me the industry impala we drive by some chevy impalas, we go back to being slaves
Even when were fresh we keep hitem up your odds, we killing up your whole family and anybody your close to
Took a lot of luck for the whole lot in the middle of the wrong lot, pass me the industry impala we drive by some chevy impalas, we killing up your whole family and anybody your close to
Oh yea they want us to take each other out, intensify my thoughts of homicide can t live this life, dropin them cadys hits hit em up hit em up with a lavish twist
Sin city blabin long we drop atomic bombs, and its dia de los muertos