Back to Top

Banshee Video (MV)




Performed By: Champion la Deceased
Length: 2:24
Written by: Teodor Danescu




Champion la Deceased - Banshee Lyrics




CHAMPION... LA... DECEASED OOOOH

Pull up in a four door beamer
Bitch hoppin' in and she got no sneakers
Blasting Bankroll on my muthaf*ckin' speakers
By the way I f*ckin' dress you might think I'm the reaper

Bitch you ain't got no flex
Bitch bitch you ain't got no flex
Bitch you aint got no flex
Bitch bitch you ain't got no flex

I got the peanut butter Louis on my belt
With the glock forty gang ready to pelt
Karate chop bricks cause I'm rockin' black felts
I am top of the line, nickname Roosevelt

Ya'lllllll pop melatonin cause you sleeping on me
My grandpa still rockin' ex-KGB
I was formed in the depths of the black sea
And I emerged as a walker not a banshee

I represent this town bitch
One wrong move and you down snitch
Rolex on my wrist I'm not rich
Ice so cold locked in a fridge

Now I'm blastin' down to Cartier
Picked two stones for my mami eh
Two years making my music with Ye
And I'm stacking these bands Imma spend it anyway

Swingin' from side to side
The henny the polar is guiding my stride
I ain't got no slips I ain't got downsides
And when you with me hell its do or die

Watch how you walk boy
Cause if you be caught in them corduroys
I'll chip chop you up like some bok choy
Imma lock you in a locker you schoolboy

Pourin' some cough syrup down in my cup
Chuckin' the sprite to see it catch up
I bring that shit down to a pub or a club
And if you with squad then I'll offer it up

Champion la Deceased yeah you know what
My hair used to look like a chestnut
But then I bossed up and took no shortcuts
So remember my name when you talk mutt

Pull up in a four door beamer
Bitch hoppin' in and she got no sneakers
Blasting Bankroll on my muthaf*ckin' speakers
By the way I f*ckin' dress you might think I'm the reaper

Bitch you ain't got no flex
Bitch bitch you ain't got no flex
Bitch you aint got no flex
Bitch bitch you ain't got no flex

The government losing all sight of its hope
The chaos is coming I can't seem to cope
I feel like I'm slashin' a gucci tightrope
The murdered black Audi lookin' like a rhino

Sending mixed signals from town to town
You blowin' balloons yeah you is a clown
And if you don't know how to hold it down
Then Deceased will come and f*ckin' shut you down
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

[ Correct these Lyrics ]

We currently do not have these lyrics. If you would like to submit them, please use the form below.


We currently do not have these lyrics. If you would like to submit them, please use the form below.




CHAMPION... LA... DECEASED OOOOH

Pull up in a four door beamer
Bitch hoppin' in and she got no sneakers
Blasting Bankroll on my muthaf*ckin' speakers
By the way I f*ckin' dress you might think I'm the reaper

Bitch you ain't got no flex
Bitch bitch you ain't got no flex
Bitch you aint got no flex
Bitch bitch you ain't got no flex

I got the peanut butter Louis on my belt
With the glock forty gang ready to pelt
Karate chop bricks cause I'm rockin' black felts
I am top of the line, nickname Roosevelt

Ya'lllllll pop melatonin cause you sleeping on me
My grandpa still rockin' ex-KGB
I was formed in the depths of the black sea
And I emerged as a walker not a banshee

I represent this town bitch
One wrong move and you down snitch
Rolex on my wrist I'm not rich
Ice so cold locked in a fridge

Now I'm blastin' down to Cartier
Picked two stones for my mami eh
Two years making my music with Ye
And I'm stacking these bands Imma spend it anyway

Swingin' from side to side
The henny the polar is guiding my stride
I ain't got no slips I ain't got downsides
And when you with me hell its do or die

Watch how you walk boy
Cause if you be caught in them corduroys
I'll chip chop you up like some bok choy
Imma lock you in a locker you schoolboy

Pourin' some cough syrup down in my cup
Chuckin' the sprite to see it catch up
I bring that shit down to a pub or a club
And if you with squad then I'll offer it up

Champion la Deceased yeah you know what
My hair used to look like a chestnut
But then I bossed up and took no shortcuts
So remember my name when you talk mutt

Pull up in a four door beamer
Bitch hoppin' in and she got no sneakers
Blasting Bankroll on my muthaf*ckin' speakers
By the way I f*ckin' dress you might think I'm the reaper

Bitch you ain't got no flex
Bitch bitch you ain't got no flex
Bitch you aint got no flex
Bitch bitch you ain't got no flex

The government losing all sight of its hope
The chaos is coming I can't seem to cope
I feel like I'm slashin' a gucci tightrope
The murdered black Audi lookin' like a rhino

Sending mixed signals from town to town
You blowin' balloons yeah you is a clown
And if you don't know how to hold it down
Then Deceased will come and f*ckin' shut you down
[ Correct these Lyrics ]
Writer: Teodor Danescu
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid


Tags:
No tags yet