La Mala Ordina (with the Rita) [feat. Elcamino & Benny the Butcher]

The bags on the table ain't for weight, they for body parts

Victim skin stretched across the wall, call it body art

Bodies for the pile, bring 'em out stacked on a dolly cart (Yeah)

Anybody out there ain't on drugs yet they should prolly start

This too real, talkin' 'bout yoru life's a movie when the party start

(Turn up) But you ain't pick a genre

Lil' bitch that wasn't hardly smart (No)

The script was shit, your third act really drags

The structure falls apart, so here the fixer come

Clipping limbs to serve 'em a la carte

The horror show was so wack, you said you'd never go back

But you standin' over the stove talkin' 'bout you really know crack

Crack is what a skull do (Yep)

So if someone gettin' brained, that mean it was nice to know you

The spinal fluid a go-to, to thicken the pot

The clique out in the whip whippin' the snot

Out a submissive till he shit blood, you thought they was dickin' a thot?

You got your rap shit fucked up, matchstick tucked up under the tongue

Pour the oil, smell the sulfur, then you run (Run)

I'm rollin' up in the bak of a G-wagon

I'm always on G-status, look (look G'ed up ****)

Forty on my lap, that's the heat package

I'm from the hood where we beat rappers

(We beat these pussy ass ****)

We way too grimey, we don't see rappers (Don't see y'all ****)

They supposed to be street, but really be actors

I really be with the jackers

The ones who be clappin' shit on pistol packin'

**** who really trappin' (Really trappin')

Cocaine sellin' with sixty in the mattress (Stackin' ****)

And do it with passion

This how these bitches be doin' they lashes

I hate **** that sit on they asses (Fuckin' hate y'all ****)

Always askin' but they ain't makin' shit happen

Get out my way I'mc raftin', laughin' (We laughin')

Let me spark my matches

Yo, I hope you **** can jet

'Cause you dealin' with a rapper that smoke contenders for a rec

(****) Real dope boy, I cooke coke and interval stretch diamonds

Right outta pot everything invisible set (Yeah)

Trunk got pies in it, disappeared in five minutes

The plug took the team where we never been like Kawhi Leonard

Tote straps never smoked jack but go live with it (What)

In my book that's dry snitchin' but that's only my opinion

Gangstas know, killers stay patient till they down somethin' (Chill)

But hit 'em like a real estate agent when he house huntin'

Rolex dial studded feds say my time flooded (Damn)

Put another chain on my neck and I'm a drown from it

El Padrino in the El Camino

If you bitch, get a jive switch and sell what's legal (Pussy)

We might smile ear to ear but you can tell we evil

These rap **** dye they hair just to sell some singles

The butcher

Rock, paper, ice pick, nice trick, no homonym

Cutouts from a magazine, make letters for your mom in them

Who remember arts and crafts, these killers is artisans

The arsenal to elevate your arteries, start again

Rock, paper, zip tie, that slow burn that drip dry

That fissures in your field of vision make your world a fisheye

That round edge make it worser when the bubble burst you just cry

Laid out on the floor without a tongue tryin' to ask why

Rock, paper, gun shot, classic out in some spots

If you prefer the sweet life maybe you can die like gum drops

Smooth and round and melting if you're left out when the sun's hot

This the preferred method of smart killers and dumb cops