Blood On My Jeans
Damn, I tried to stop, oh
Baby (808 Mafia), baby (baby), baby (baby), babe
You literally are my everything (baby, Gezin)
Hah (baby)
Baby, I've been on the run (yeah)
But I would never run from your love (uh-uh)
If you feel on my dick, there's a gun (uh-huh)
Not right there, just a little above
I value my relationship, it's forever
But I've been cheatin' on the drugs (yeah)
Broke up with codeine, need a new plug (yeah)
Hit up Hot, raw pints, I need two of 'em (yeah)
Huh, lean, huh
Put Biscotti in my lungs, I'm smokin' green
Chopper on me, I don't talk, I just up the beam
Huh, let my gun bust a nut, then leave (yeah)
I ain't leave a clue on the scene (uh-uh)
Close range, so I got blood on my jeans (uh)
Saints Row cup, ain't no red in my lean (uh-uh)
Bankrolled up, I been swimmin' in green (uh-huh)
Still a blue face king
Benjamin Franklin come dirty and clean (let's go)
I know my haters hate to see me succeed
If they get the chance, they'll end up murderin' me
That shit got me laughin', haha
Kel-Tec get to rappin', grrah, grrah
Fuck nigga, I'm your father
Don't matter if you older
They say age is just a number
If that's the case, I'm way over
Than who? These niggas (uh-huh)
And these bitches that think that they get it (uh-huh)
For a backstage pass, she'll suck the dick (uh-huh)
Bitch, I got a bitch, better get you a ticket (uh-huh)
Walk through the night with my gun like a creep
On my shirt Maison Martin, my shoes double-C
I don't know what it's gonna take you to believe
I ain't goin' nowhere, I ain't gon' leave you (ayy, ayy, ayy)
I ain't goin' nowhere, I ain't gon' leave you
You stuck with me, apologies for my fuckery
Baby, I've been on the run
But I would never run from your love
If you feel on my dick, there's a gun
Not right there, just a little above
I value my relationship, it's forever
But I've been cheatin' on the drugs (yeah)
Broke up with codeine, need a new plug (yeah)
Hit up Hot, raw pints, I need two of 'em (yeah)
Huh, lean, huh
Put Biscotti in my lungs, I'm smokin' green
Chopper on me, I don't talk, I just up the beam
Huh, let my gun bust a nut, then leave (yeah)
I ain't leave a clue on the scene
Close range, so I got blood on my jeans
Baby (808 Mafia), baby (baby), baby (baby), babe
You literally are my everything (baby, Gezin)
Hah (baby)
Baby, I've been on the run (yeah)
But I would never run from your love (uh-uh)
If you feel on my dick, there's a gun (uh-huh)
Not right there, just a little above
I value my relationship, it's forever
But I've been cheatin' on the drugs (yeah)
Broke up with codeine, need a new plug (yeah)
Hit up Hot, raw pints, I need two of 'em (yeah)
Huh, lean, huh
Put Biscotti in my lungs, I'm smokin' green
Chopper on me, I don't talk, I just up the beam
Huh, let my gun bust a nut, then leave (yeah)
I ain't leave a clue on the scene (uh-uh)
Close range, so I got blood on my jeans (uh)
Saints Row cup, ain't no red in my lean (uh-uh)
Bankrolled up, I been swimmin' in green (uh-huh)
Still a blue face king
Benjamin Franklin come dirty and clean (let's go)
I know my haters hate to see me succeed
If they get the chance, they'll end up murderin' me
That shit got me laughin', haha
Kel-Tec get to rappin', grrah, grrah
Fuck nigga, I'm your father
Don't matter if you older
They say age is just a number
If that's the case, I'm way over
Than who? These niggas (uh-huh)
And these bitches that think that they get it (uh-huh)
For a backstage pass, she'll suck the dick (uh-huh)
Bitch, I got a bitch, better get you a ticket (uh-huh)
Walk through the night with my gun like a creep
On my shirt Maison Martin, my shoes double-C
I don't know what it's gonna take you to believe
I ain't goin' nowhere, I ain't gon' leave you (ayy, ayy, ayy)
I ain't goin' nowhere, I ain't gon' leave you
You stuck with me, apologies for my fuckery
Baby, I've been on the run
But I would never run from your love
If you feel on my dick, there's a gun
Not right there, just a little above
I value my relationship, it's forever
But I've been cheatin' on the drugs (yeah)
Broke up with codeine, need a new plug (yeah)
Hit up Hot, raw pints, I need two of 'em (yeah)
Huh, lean, huh
Put Biscotti in my lungs, I'm smokin' green
Chopper on me, I don't talk, I just up the beam
Huh, let my gun bust a nut, then leave (yeah)
I ain't leave a clue on the scene
Close range, so I got blood on my jeans
Credits
Writer(s): Jarad Higgins, Filip Gezin
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.