Basic Witches
They call me Johnny Johnny, Presidente', Trashy Mafia
Cash the profit, find the bottom, start the pit and turn it up
Crack a bottle, rip the throttle off and fall asleep with shakes
Find out every hoe's got a head full of damn snakes
Wanna get baked, honey? Light that California bud
Eat a couple rolls and I might rip the damn brakes off
Empty all your bottles while you take all of them pills
Then we'll take it down to Jumbo's with a stack of dollar bills
If you wanted it golden, then consider this payment
You're famous
All that glitters is you and you're so famous
So fuckin' famous
Pistol full of perfume and whips on the dash
Right now I gotta dip but maybe when I hit this hash
Might figure out a way to hit the window, fall in place
Pack it tight - Loosen up, bitch, roll the dice
Get to whippin' while she's pickin' fruit up out the garden
She don't play no games, lil' baby likes to get retarded
Put that liquor in her veins - she gon' get it started
She's on that straight tequila. She don't sip Bacardi
What the fuck is she doing? I'm feelin sexual tension
Before American Horror, life was easy as grippin'
And pinchin' asses of bitches
Them basic witches are rich as their daddy's credit allows
Come drink with Johnny, turn up
If you wanted it golden, then consider this payment
You're famous
All that glitters is you and you're so famous
So fuckin' famous
Born and raised in the south, she's a golden apparition
If you get her on that bottle, she's a family tradition
If you come here tryin' to preach, better do it with conviction
Then swallow that pride
This music is your new religion
If you're basic, you're basically foolishly foolin' with a jaded
Half-drunk Miller High Life crisis
King Cake with Creole Cream Cheese icing
Life trippin, flip a bitch, roundin up them westside women
Ride or die, bitch, can you get it?
You got the chills, feelin shitty, feelin illness?
Dopesick and dick suckin' til you pill-less?
Nah you ain't no Pam Tillis
Shake the sugar tree, bitch!
Wesley Willis
Fuckin with them numbers, I'ma keep it triple digits
They skeeted to the moon and I'm feelin synchronistic
Pop it mistress. Mystic Crystal Pussy Britches
You got talent. Let me see you Stevie Nix it, girl
Cash the profit, find the bottom, start the pit and turn it up
Crack a bottle, rip the throttle off and fall asleep with shakes
Find out every hoe's got a head full of damn snakes
Wanna get baked, honey? Light that California bud
Eat a couple rolls and I might rip the damn brakes off
Empty all your bottles while you take all of them pills
Then we'll take it down to Jumbo's with a stack of dollar bills
If you wanted it golden, then consider this payment
You're famous
All that glitters is you and you're so famous
So fuckin' famous
Pistol full of perfume and whips on the dash
Right now I gotta dip but maybe when I hit this hash
Might figure out a way to hit the window, fall in place
Pack it tight - Loosen up, bitch, roll the dice
Get to whippin' while she's pickin' fruit up out the garden
She don't play no games, lil' baby likes to get retarded
Put that liquor in her veins - she gon' get it started
She's on that straight tequila. She don't sip Bacardi
What the fuck is she doing? I'm feelin sexual tension
Before American Horror, life was easy as grippin'
And pinchin' asses of bitches
Them basic witches are rich as their daddy's credit allows
Come drink with Johnny, turn up
If you wanted it golden, then consider this payment
You're famous
All that glitters is you and you're so famous
So fuckin' famous
Born and raised in the south, she's a golden apparition
If you get her on that bottle, she's a family tradition
If you come here tryin' to preach, better do it with conviction
Then swallow that pride
This music is your new religion
If you're basic, you're basically foolishly foolin' with a jaded
Half-drunk Miller High Life crisis
King Cake with Creole Cream Cheese icing
Life trippin, flip a bitch, roundin up them westside women
Ride or die, bitch, can you get it?
You got the chills, feelin shitty, feelin illness?
Dopesick and dick suckin' til you pill-less?
Nah you ain't no Pam Tillis
Shake the sugar tree, bitch!
Wesley Willis
Fuckin with them numbers, I'ma keep it triple digits
They skeeted to the moon and I'm feelin synchronistic
Pop it mistress. Mystic Crystal Pussy Britches
You got talent. Let me see you Stevie Nix it, girl
Credits
Writer(s): Johnny Tra$h
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Link
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