ISIS TYPE BEAT

Hi
Where's my fucking lighter, where's my fucking lighter?
There it is, there it is, there it is, there-
Where's my fucking blunt, yeah, where's my fucking blunt?

Blow up, blow up, I'm about to blow up
Filled up with emotion and some potion, had to pour up
No cup, grow up, bitch, you better grow up
Slow up, if you talkin' shit, you better throw up
Throw up, nausea in my stomach, had to let it go
Wet the bowl, toilet pot then boil, foil it, let it blow
I'm ready ho, cutting coke, I feel it in my finger tips
Trigger rip, liquor in my system, lit a cigarette

Nigga bet, nigga bet, nigga, you can fuckin' bet
I'ma have to get the TEC, spray it at your fuckin' neck
Stalk your block, throw you on the chopping block
My choppa talk, Choppa yell
Gritting teeth and spitting 'til the copper fell
Is he talking copper shells or coppers that get pensions?
I'ma oppa to you niggas that be paying for attention
Fuck a mention, build the tension, eventually 'til accession
I'm benching these niggas quenching the people need for a drenching

I'm flooding the game, blood in the mud on my name
I ain't even sped it up or spud up the bud in my brain
I could do that, tight like virgins, clean detergents
Yacking up my sins like I am purging
Feel the urge and cut like surgeon
I can feel my rage emerging

Taking over me, I don't wanna talk
Baking on a leaf, towing on a Glock
Runnin' on my feet, dodging hella opps
I got no more weed, I've been doing drops
I've been high as fuck, I got momma scared
She just wanna talk, like I am not aware
But she like all my shit, 'cause my momma ain't a square
And I started making hits when I took off all my hair

I'm Darkie, bitch, Darkie, bitch
Fuck you mean, I'm here to stay
I grip the K and let it say, "Bang bang" to any nigga in my way
Fuck a hater man, got the greater bands
I could back it up, I could put you on the hands
Nigga, back it up, I see you wanna take offense
And you talk a lot of shit, but got no shit inside your pants bitch

I be on my grind everyday, I be out the box like a Russian AK
She be suckin' on my cock, told that bitch, "Okay"
The way she make it disappear, I'd pay
Good money, drug money, can't deposit blood money
Wood honey, cherry looking sunny
Reefer inside of my tummy, funny bunny running from me

I'ma blow up, blow up, on Allah, I'ma blow up
I follow you, won't show up, got Shala bumpin', no fucks
YTrid out my speakers, I be fighting all my teachers
Features, gotta love what you don't need
Weed hitting like a Judo knee
Got pseudo, keys, and mushrooms, pounds
And you know these won't rush you down
We high as hell 'cause we below it
Heaven is the 7-11 'cause I'm a broke kid

Speaking like reverend, Lil Darkie be on Imam shit
Melon that I'm serving the devil is my Palm shit
Darkie hella mad, ain't really with the calm shit
I be dropping fire like striking you with a bomb shit

I'm just gon' leave this right here



Credits
Writer(s): Alexander Wacksman, Joshua Hamilton
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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