Who wanna catch dis
|
Who wanna catch dis
|
|
Bitch please, you must be smokin' rocks
|
Real shit for my people
|
And it just don't
|
Fucker please you must be smokin' rocks
|
Real shit for my people
|
And it just don't
|
|
Drop it like... oh yeah
|
That's so trashy
|
How low can you go
|
How dirty can you get... nasty fucker
|
Drug through the dirt
|
Razor cut that eight millimeter make it hurt
|
Chain sleaze leather face
|
Fucker please, you must be smokin' rocks
|
Kill it, kill it
|
Kill it, kill it
|
Hit it, fuck it, feel it, whip it, burn it,
|
Turn it out and kick it to da curb
|
Shut it down
|
Forged in the flames, said it before and I'll say it again...
|
Quazar game maximum vacuum rotation spin s-s-s
|
|
Bitch please, you must be smokin' rocks
|
Real shit for my people
|
And it just don't
|
Fucker please you must be smokin' rocks
|
Real shit for my people
|
And it just don't
|
|
When shit goes down
|
I'll be there
|
Wit' my hand on my gun, and my eyes on the road
|
Ghost ridin' to hell fuck if I care... who wanna catch my droze
|
Give a fuck blood, I ain't goin' nowhere
|
Templar night and day, live an die by the code,
|
Code of the street, how ta stay in the zone,
|
How I own it and freak it to da base of da bone
|
|
I am the darkness creeping through your system
|
The lash of da whip cracking every bitch into position
|
Worki'n ya over crashing and burning in a blackhole blasting out,
|
Your subwoofers are melting... hear a bitch say why's he yelling
|
|
Who wanna catch dis gun clap, shrapnel off me lip
|
Cause blood bath
|
|
Bitch please, you must be smokin' rocks
|
Real shit for my people
|
And it just don't
|
Fucker please you must be smokin' rocks
|
Real shit for my people
|
And it just don't
|
|
Cuz I run this lik
|
Like dogtown ripped
|
That raw shit like none other
|
Low down dirty shit
|
Shot off this hip
|
Death grips, mothafucka
|
|
Please, you must be
|
Smokin' rocks
|
Real shit for my people
|
And it just don't stop
|
Bitch please
|
|
-----------------
|
Bitch Please
|
| Death Grips |
