Credits
PERFORMING ARTISTS
Morbid Clique
Performer
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Cameron Michael McCaul
Songwriter
Aaron O'Connor
Songwriter
Billy Knudson
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Cameron Couch
Producer
Myles Long
Producer
Lyrics
DJ T-h-m-c
I'ma show your fucking bitches that I run the game
Upper drug intake 'cause I'm tired of your fucking face
Faking it to bloody win, when I blow your fucking brains
I'ma be the last one standing like it was the Hunger Games
If you wanna be the dude that talks shit
Just stop it, these hands I could level your whole block with
You know I got it, for the taking like I shoplift
You were training when I rock this
Get a fist up in your socket
Awe shit, not like it's John Wick I box with
You're toxic, weed's allowed in weeks like an armpit
Yep, you heard me
On my verses I'm so dirty
I piss my own pants on stage like I'm Fergie
Morbid Clique versus Playboy The Beast
Dumping dope, I staying blazed like with Cheech
Fuck it, your mouth, you should shut it
Better recognize 'cause we the ones who run it
Who run it? Morbid Clique bitch
Who run it? Murder Music
Fuck around and found out, get found face-down
With your mu'fucking pockets hanging out, hah
Who run it? Morbid Clique bitch
Who run it? Murder Music
Fuck around and found out, get found face-down
With your mu'fucking pockets hanging out, hah
Who the fuck can it be walking this way G?
It's the incredible motherfucking Charlie Lucky
And he's about to count to three for you wack emcees
I'll set you free then I'll smoke you like some bomb-ass tree, yo
It's Morbid Clique and X-Rated in the building
Dropping dope shit, don't give a fuck if you don't feel it
A microphone killer representing hip-hop
Spit that real shit, I don't be doing trip-hop
Whatever the fuck that is, now let me do my steelo
You better take off while you can like a helo that coming to pick up my kilo
All I do is sit and write and making murder music
I write rhymes in my sleep, that's how I never lose it
We taking the bottoms off pitchers, then dumping the body, we did it for Gotti
Pulling the trigger because of my hottie, now get in the fucking Bugatti
I'm never gonna stop flowing 'til I get the green
Molest the microphone like I'm Jeffrey Epstein
Who run it? Morbid Clique bitch
Who run it? Murder Music
Fuck around and found out, get found face-down
With your mu'fucking pockets hanging out, hah
Who run it? Morbid Clique bitch
Who run it? Murder Music
Fuck around and found out, get found face-down
With your mu'fucking pockets hanging out, hah
Hate it or love it, it don't matter bitch, you knowing who run it
I sold my soul but I would never be no industry puppet
Keep them twigs on me baby, just like my name's Kirby Puckett
I used to care about opinions, but now I'm living like fuck it
So pussy, miss me with that fuck shit
You **** is fuckwits
Rapping 'bout they guns on every track but never bust shit
**** used to ride with me, shit hit the fan and they all jumped ship
Running for the police when they see me, you a tough snitch
Your wife be knowing who run it and that's the reason she gon' suck dick
You a stepping stone, we the one's she really won't fuck with
Proud Boy representer so you know I'm ducking FEDs
Like when I step inside the venue my enemies duck they heads
I prefer to throw them hands but I resort to bucking lead
I come to run this shit pussy, I know you heard what the fuck I said
All my little scrappy shit, I'm getting crunk and busting heads
Took too many shots, I'm blacking out, all I see is red
Written by: Aaron O'Connor, Billy Knudson, Cameron Michael McCaul
![Listen to F**k Yo Couch (feat. Kidcrusher, Cameron Couch, Jim Jonez & Erippa) [Joneztown Remix] by Morbid Clique, see lyrics, music video & more!](/mkimage/image/thumb/Music126/v4/90/d2/3c/90d23cf0-27ff-9a0a-773f-05e5d15d300b/artwork.jpg/375x375bb.webp "Listen to F**k Yo Couch (feat. Kidcrusher, Cameron Couch, Jim Jonez & Erippa) [Joneztown Remix] by Morbid Clique, see lyrics, music video & more!")
