Crystal Lake (feat. Mr. Knewmahn)
You's a bitch boy
Pocket full of shells load the clip boy
Sit boy
Fetch a bone red dot is equipped boy
Now you running while we gunning
Pulling triggers stone cold stunning
Outta ammo that ain't nothing
Pull the blade and get to cutting
Grab a bitch, put my dick in her esophagus
Why she call me daddy she's a bastard I don't want that bitch
Slit her like a snake
Emo bitch don't want the cake
So I put it on her face and then she eat it like a blade
Quit your belly aching 'fore my Ruger go right through ya
Got a Glock for your pops and a nade for your madulla
Gotta cannon for your shooters
Some Xannys for the users
Sending birdies to your chest I swear this bitch could work for Hooters
Eeny meeny, miny
Bullets hitting, bodies
Tummy full of, Xannys
Bitches pussy, panties
You could hand me any weapon that you want
It'll be against the rules
Like a chain against your views
Thats I popping
Reaching down your eye socket
Don't be playing up your views
Two hands on you
I'm the one thats got the grip boy
Hip toss
Leave a fist
Fixing up your lip jaw
Signals mixed but ya can tell that i miss calls
Wired up
Wires up and they criss cross
Sharp enough to
Slice like butter no respawn
Im hyped off a Meek song
I Feast off
Throw grease balls
I be on
And beat off
If we fought
I pee on
Your sneakers
Use bait as your speakers
Ha ha ha ha ha
Their back
Pocket full of shells load the clip boy
Sit boy
Fetch a bone red dot is equipped boy
Now you running while we gunning
Pulling triggers stone cold stunning
Outta ammo that ain't nothing
Pull the blade and get to cutting
Grab a bitch, put my dick in her esophagus
Why she call me daddy she's a bastard I don't want that bitch
Slit her like a snake
Emo bitch don't want the cake
So I put it on her face and then she eat it like a blade
Quit your belly aching 'fore my Ruger go right through ya
Got a Glock for your pops and a nade for your madulla
Gotta cannon for your shooters
Some Xannys for the users
Sending birdies to your chest I swear this bitch could work for Hooters
Eeny meeny, miny
Bullets hitting, bodies
Tummy full of, Xannys
Bitches pussy, panties
You could hand me any weapon that you want
It'll be against the rules
Like a chain against your views
Thats I popping
Reaching down your eye socket
Don't be playing up your views
Two hands on you
I'm the one thats got the grip boy
Hip toss
Leave a fist
Fixing up your lip jaw
Signals mixed but ya can tell that i miss calls
Wired up
Wires up and they criss cross
Sharp enough to
Slice like butter no respawn
Im hyped off a Meek song
I Feast off
Throw grease balls
I be on
And beat off
If we fought
I pee on
Your sneakers
Use bait as your speakers
Ha ha ha ha ha
Their back
Credits
Writer(s): Henry Vega
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Link
© 2024 All rights reserved. Rockol.com S.r.l. Website image policy
Rockol
- Rockol only uses images and photos made available for promotional purposes (“for press use”) by record companies, artist managements and p.r. agencies.
- Said images are used to exert a right to report and a finality of the criticism, in a degraded mode compliant to copyright laws, and exclusively inclosed in our own informative content.
- Only non-exclusive images addressed to newspaper use and, in general, copyright-free are accepted.
- Live photos are published when licensed by photographers whose copyright is quoted.
- Rockol is available to pay the right holder a fair fee should a published image’s author be unknown at the time of publishing.
Feedback
Please immediately report the presence of images possibly not compliant with the above cases so as to quickly verify an improper use: where confirmed, we would immediately proceed to their removal.