YONKO
Hello
Mini money boy from the ghetto
6 inch knife in the pocket, edge narrow
Man o' war, barely more
Sipping on the blood of the daily corps
But lives of the hives are lowly high
Here for the job, that's the only mind
But we can about it later when the wolf began to hate
Her imitating all the images of him and his mate, her
Not really one of the bunch
Hunching over this runch runch
This yellow blood looking crunch crunch
Sitting silence in this hutch hutch
Only the beat of the heart
Mine and theirs
My head crowned
The piles of feared
They should be
Highschool frats really mothafucking should be
They pass down the hallway, my way
Looking crazy, they down say
Hey little boy, down there how's the weather
Sip this spit goes down together
Bye
Hello
Mini money boy from the ghetto
6 inch knife in the pocket, edge narrow
Man o' war, barely more
Sippin on the blood of the daily corps
But lives of the hives are lowly high
Here for the job, that's the only mind
Testing this iddy bitty shotgun
Resting in the cabinet of his shity son son
Leave the dead out
Me and him will leave the dead scouts
All blue blouse
Meet the dead mouse
In groud step on his head
Jakey boy bout bleed in all red
His little white skin I'm going to shed
Put it on I do what I said
Mini money boy from the ghetto
6 inch knife in the pocket, edge narrow
Man o' war, barely more
Sipping on the blood of the daily corps
But lives of the hives are lowly high
Here for the job, that's the only mind
But we can about it later when the wolf began to hate
Her imitating all the images of him and his mate, her
Not really one of the bunch
Hunching over this runch runch
This yellow blood looking crunch crunch
Sitting silence in this hutch hutch
Only the beat of the heart
Mine and theirs
My head crowned
The piles of feared
They should be
Highschool frats really mothafucking should be
They pass down the hallway, my way
Looking crazy, they down say
Hey little boy, down there how's the weather
Sip this spit goes down together
Bye
Hello
Mini money boy from the ghetto
6 inch knife in the pocket, edge narrow
Man o' war, barely more
Sippin on the blood of the daily corps
But lives of the hives are lowly high
Here for the job, that's the only mind
Testing this iddy bitty shotgun
Resting in the cabinet of his shity son son
Leave the dead out
Me and him will leave the dead scouts
All blue blouse
Meet the dead mouse
In groud step on his head
Jakey boy bout bleed in all red
His little white skin I'm going to shed
Put it on I do what I said
Credits
Writer(s): Balog Zsombor
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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