Слова

I am the one I am that mothafucka when I'm spittin I do it for fun I don't want funds Fuck all the drugs Pussies be running away from they problems i face to the front Bitch I never miss Try not to fuck with the clique Tasting the Blood on my lips when I spit I'm out here schemin Feel like a demon Grippin the blade in my fist I don't really wanna put a slit in my wrist But think if I did The Mothafuckas jump on my shit They fuckin with it I think I'd be next big thing Imma give em a twist Underground warrior Stuck in dysphoria Stallin my hope for the Future I shoot for the stars And my bullet go far But I can't seem to follow The hollow Tomorrow I wallow In sorrow I can't seem to swallow The fact that I might just be rotten I might just like what I've gotten I like this knife in my pocket Fuckin with me and you in the coffin Aye Pussy mothafuckas wanna make it to fame They fuckin with lames I never wanna be the one to do the same thangs As the fakes so Evade the games It's schema the pose to the grave Eliminate Every mothafucka fuckin with the posse Takin pot shots With a sawed off Ain't god damn shots be connecting with the body Imma be the one to rock it till I'm poppin I'mma never stop Jump off the porch I'm goin' head first Grip on the steel I'm dumpin' lead first Boutta to 'Eat You Alive' just like I'm Fred Durst Vampire like Cullen I got the bloodthirst Flow is telekinetic call me Professor X Chasin' the bag you know I need the check When I whip out the choppa you betta hit the deck Think I'm losin' my mind I go Virginia Tech I'm losin' faith lately But they can't break me I'm stressin' out daily Homicide maybe Always told 'real recognize real' Guess that mean all y'all fake Always told 'real recognize real' Guess that mean all y'all fake Yeah bitch you do this for clout and I got the passion I be makin' a statement not talkin' fashion Live and die by the creed bitch I'm assassin I keep a pump in the trunk if you want the action Post-traumatic disorder, I have a flashback And if catch you it's on, and you gettin' bitch slapped Know you know that I'm petty I gotta clap back Six feet in the grave and you take a dirt nap I'm losin' faith lately But they can't break me I'm stressin' out daily Homicide maybe I'm losin' faith lately But they can't break me I'm stressin' out daily Homicide maybe
Writer(s): Kalem Tarrant Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
instagramSharePathic_arrow_out