Turn It Out

I got plenty packs
Of the boof you can not pass
And the sight that you've seen
Got me lookin' like a fiend
I envisioned all of this
Come out here and reminisce
With the last blunt
Take it off, feel it hit, like 'em all
I can't
It's for show
I keep it on the low
When you see the demon
Don't forget to let him know
That I'm coming quick
Gas hit
'Bout to take off in this bitch
Get so hot I'm fuckin' wit'
Down in dirt you cause a fit
Just a little piece of shit
Fuckin' with the wrong clique
Packed with my shit
Bustin' with my fuckin' mitts
Baseball bats just sittin' in my fuckin' room
Sittin' all confused
When that gonna start to bruise



Credits
Writer(s): Ryan Mitchel Chassels
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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