Bitch I'm dressed in all black it's your funeral kid
Cause your head gon' get cracked like a pint of Actavis
I work full time times three, I barely got time to breathe
Man I used to sleep on concrete, I want Designer sheets
Off the black liquor that shit got me slo-mo
You act outta pocket get hit like you Romo
Boy I drip hard spent three hundred on cargos, no cap that's facts
God ain't guiding me through shit, I don't look to the sky
You and your dogs act outta line you gon' get euthanized
They rappin' bout plays that they bought, clothes they ain't got and
Demons they ain't fought, really playing games, quit the tough talk, this real life but Ubisoft
Sick of them and they petty ways, soaking wet he still a featherweight
Pendulum when the hands swing
Please don't make me have to demonstrate
Barrel to your dome piece and your homies all y'all f*ckin' fake
This ski mask ain't for fashion bitch my scars are from my stains
Shit talk or subtweet
Y'all still just bitches with nothing
Gon' turn your crew into roadkill ya barely breathing and done for
Who buys beats with the hook pre-recorded
Who got the mix that sound like shit down the toilet
Where the fake gangsters with B.B. guns and flamboyance
I'm getting sick of these bitches being annoying
Black out
Ain't no sun inside the trap house
I took DMT
Died and thought I passed out
If we got a problem I'm swinging til I get smacked down
Fist touch your face like yo momma's first hit of crack, wow
L.A. GOON$ - Black Lyrics
L.A. GOON$ - Black Lyrics
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Bitch I'm dressed in all black it's your funeral kid
Cause your head gon' get cracked like a pint of Actavis
I work full time times three, I barely got time to breathe
Man I used to sleep on concrete, I want Designer sheets
Off the black liquor that shit got me slo-mo
You act outta pocket get hit like you Romo
Boy I drip hard spent three hundred on cargos, no cap that's facts
God ain't guiding me through shit, I don't look to the sky
You and your dogs act outta line you gon' get euthanized
They rappin' bout plays that they bought, clothes they ain't got and
Demons they ain't fought, really playing games, quit the tough talk, this real life but Ubisoft
Sick of them and they petty ways, soaking wet he still a featherweight
Pendulum when the hands swing
Please don't make me have to demonstrate
Barrel to your dome piece and your homies all y'all f*ckin' fake
This ski mask ain't for fashion bitch my scars are from my stains
Shit talk or subtweet
Y'all still just bitches with nothing
Gon' turn your crew into roadkill ya barely breathing and done for
Who buys beats with the hook pre-recorded
Who got the mix that sound like shit down the toilet
Where the fake gangsters with B.B. guns and flamboyance
I'm getting sick of these bitches being annoying
Black out
Ain't no sun inside the trap house
I took DMT
Died and thought I passed out
If we got a problem I'm swinging til I get smacked down
Fist touch your face like yo momma's first hit of crack, wow
Cause your head gon' get cracked like a pint of Actavis
I work full time times three, I barely got time to breathe
Man I used to sleep on concrete, I want Designer sheets
Off the black liquor that shit got me slo-mo
You act outta pocket get hit like you Romo
Boy I drip hard spent three hundred on cargos, no cap that's facts
God ain't guiding me through shit, I don't look to the sky
You and your dogs act outta line you gon' get euthanized
They rappin' bout plays that they bought, clothes they ain't got and
Demons they ain't fought, really playing games, quit the tough talk, this real life but Ubisoft
Sick of them and they petty ways, soaking wet he still a featherweight
Pendulum when the hands swing
Please don't make me have to demonstrate
Barrel to your dome piece and your homies all y'all f*ckin' fake
This ski mask ain't for fashion bitch my scars are from my stains
Shit talk or subtweet
Y'all still just bitches with nothing
Gon' turn your crew into roadkill ya barely breathing and done for
Who buys beats with the hook pre-recorded
Who got the mix that sound like shit down the toilet
Where the fake gangsters with B.B. guns and flamboyance
I'm getting sick of these bitches being annoying
Black out
Ain't no sun inside the trap house
I took DMT
Died and thought I passed out
If we got a problem I'm swinging til I get smacked down
Fist touch your face like yo momma's first hit of crack, wow
Writer: Jacob Kudo, Tyler Garcia
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid