Music Video

Kill Dyll - BAKI // ROT (ft. Gashum)
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Credits

COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Dylan Matthew Fessenden
Dylan Matthew Fessenden
Songwriter

Lyrics

We are not the fuckin' same Don't compare me to no copies No competition, 'cause I killed them like I'm Baki Nobodies talk, all I hear is the static Actin' all hard, till they hear automatics Pray to your God, if you got one then stop it I'm sick of the fuckers, that talk like they got it Talkin' that shit say it once then he froze Saying it twice, get him shot akimbos Thirsty for cloud, like you fuckers are Hoes Get off of my dick, lil bitch you get hosed Leave me alone I hate when I see that you're calling my phone You all did me wrong You talked down on me right inside of my home I cut to the bone To feel anything 'cause I'm always so numb I pull out the gun and place it right inside my motherfucking dome I don't care what you say Look into my eyes do you think I fucking play I know 100 different ways I could take apart your face I hope you know I'd never lack I keep a blade right on my waist okay I do all this for fun, I got this bitch on her knees like a nun You pussy I know if I pull up you'll run Bitch I hope you fuckin' rot, rot, rot, rot, rot, rot, rot Bitch I hope you fuckin' rot, rot, rot, rot, rot, rot, rot Bitch I hope you fuckin' Came with the flows, never came for the hoes Fame till it blows, propane to the nose Fuck what they think what they say, what they know Cocaine in the brain of the lames and the foes Duckin' and fuckin' up all the fakes till they go Mother fuckers are lucky I'm feelin great, overdose Can you run it I wonder, you lookin slow in the dome Put a 40 inside of it then we wait till it blows Wait till the fade put a cave in his face Mother fuckers wanted pain you God damn disgrace Illuminati I'm catching body on body I never thought he was salty only wanted a hobby Shout the pastor he claiming the south My brother in Europe Kiraw is about To take over anyways, fuck all the clout We make it the petty way with or without Never came for the money only came for the woes Rain for the funny 23s to the dome We makin' the money makin' capitol If that boy keep on cappin, I'm cappin his dome You dirty little bitch, I know you love the way I spit Fire in my lungs with the fire on my hip You dirty little bitch, I know you love the way I spit Fire in my lungs with the fire on my hip
Writer(s): Dylan Matthew Fessenden Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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