Cup Full of Flames
Blank, pale, emotionless face, and the blackest eyes, the Devil's eyes
Bitch, I'm fucking vacant
Probably couldn't make it
True I got a pillow and a blanket but I'm always sleeping naked
I won't get it but I take it
Bread crumbs busted I be flaking
Flicking ashes off the grass and flick them on the grass
I'm lacing up my laces facing public faces
'Cause I'm facing blunts in fucking basements
Who said we were racing?
Last I checked I'm blazing
Bitch, I'm blazing, bitch I'm burning up
Got a cup full of flames, got a list of names
Pour another up, every sip I drain send them to the grave
Gotta golden touch
Another soul to gain
Look at the ways, fuck a stain
Nothing was the fucking same
Bitch, I'm blowing up
Everybody know the drugs on me
One terabyte in my USB
Picture perfect with the image like I'm Warhol
Horns on my head looking like a narwhal
White tenants never laced hunnid blunts to the face
Hair tied, see the death in my eyes
Swear I die every time I get high
No cash just two pistols and a mask
Riding 'round the city draped in a Soulja rag
(Riding, riding, round the city draped in a Soulja rag, riding round)
Bitch, I'm fucking vacant
Probably couldn't make it
True I got a pillow and a blanket but I'm always sleeping naked
I won't get it but I take it
Bread crumbs busted I be flaking
Flicking ashes off the grass and flick them on the grass
I'm lacing up my laces facing public faces
'Cause I'm facing blunts in fucking basements
Who said we were racing?
Last I checked I'm blazing
Bitch, I'm blazing, bitch I'm burning up
Got a cup full of flames, got a list of names
Pour another up, every sip I drain send them to the grave
Gotta golden touch
Another soul to gain
Look at the ways, fuck a stain
Nothing was the fucking same
Bitch, I'm blowing up
Everybody know the drugs on me
One terabyte in my USB
Picture perfect with the image like I'm Warhol
Horns on my head looking like a narwhal
White tenants never laced hunnid blunts to the face
Hair tied, see the death in my eyes
Swear I die every time I get high
No cash just two pistols and a mask
Riding 'round the city draped in a Soulja rag
(Riding, riding, round the city draped in a Soulja rag, riding round)
Credits
Writer(s): Aristos Petrou, Scott Arceneaux Jr., Hustlegod
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Link
Other Album Tracks
All Album Tracks: Kill Yourself, Pt. XXI: The John Kennedy $Aga >
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