Boysenberry Sepsis

(Just not gonna say anything, just make noises)
(I love you, Hellboy)
(Rrrah, rrrah, rrrah, rrrah, woo!)
(Hellboy)
(Let's get it then, well check this out)
(We got somebody new)
(That shit kinda cool!)
Ay, a- a- a- ay!

Think I don't give just enough of a fuck
Glow like I'm frozen
My dosage corrupt
Flow like a chosen until I combust

Into nothing but dust, my son
I don't think you want to press your luck
They gonna go put you in your place with the taste of the rust
Old game's so corrupt
Lotta fans got a fetish for the blood
Father figure was a .38
There goes that son of a gun

Leading them all astray with disgrace for the next fresh dove
Pray for a man who won't settle
He likes to meddle with all the shit that the people peddle
They might pop a little quiеt pill up in his dental
They hope you ain't got thе potential to let go
And assemble your own end goals
So bleed
Every last drop of the dream
From the throat of some old GOATs
No antidote for the soul bloat

(Bloody rippin' this motherfuckin' track)
(I know it took 'em some time to get on this motherfucker)
('Cause they had to beat bid for this motherfucker)
(But yo! Yeah, he amped up on this motherfucker)
Ayy, bitches try to
Bitches try to (that's pretty cool)

Bitches try to hold me by the goatee
On my dome piece
Like they own me, own me
I just feed 'em pepperoni on a hoagie 'til they foamy
Back in '03 I was already OG

2014 showed me I can only
Proceed in the lonely, as a trophy
Think you know me?
You a homie?
Get you out my situation with a ceremony
I give grown men nightmares
Call me alimony
When you talk all I hear is a dial tone, so phony
Tellin' everyone you eat good but your girl looking bony
Feed that bitch some macaroni!

Or she'll find me, low key
Looking for a pokey
Ride me like a Ginuwine Pony
While you getting nosey with your cronies
When you find out
I'll be dead already under six feet of concrete

Pull up with the motherfuckin' blade on my conscience
Fuck the meds in my pocket
I'mma go off 'em
Motherfuckers ain't honest
But they really good at shouting
Fuck about the commas?
Why they living so shallow?
Take a look up at the shadow, I-

Woke up today and I ain't meditate
Now all my demons gon' circle my brain
Now all a sudden I hate life
Fuck up
Out my
Damn
Sight
Hold up for a second
99, Saliva, Grim are in this bitch you know
We coming with that motherfuckin' cemetery flow

Smile on my face while I'm grippin' on the hatchet
Pull my hoodie up, like I'm Jason get to slashin'
Choppin' up they limbs, 99 is going batshit
East End Butcher finna leave your carcass ravaged
99 keep the fuckin' knife on the nightstand
Ready to take your life in the night like I'm Iceman
Creepin' out of sight
I keep the ratchet in my right hand
Paint the walls red
I'm the catalyst of violence

(That shit went hard, bro)
(I like this one)
(He like "damn G")
("Where'd you find this?")



Credits
Writer(s): Patrick Jobe, Jeremy Klein, Spencer Horton Linn, Andrew Moran, Nicholas Dismore, Evgeny Manko
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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