Suicide Doors
Why your bitch's pussy smell like wet McDonald's napkins (she gross)
Im napping on her, parked it in the back and had her gasping (she throat)
Im thrashing on em, i don't do nothin else with what's called passion (i don't)
Im laughing on 'em, they think i'm mad now they cant imagine (you wont)
Cover my shirt with red, now that's called fashion... in.fact...
Don't fuck with the kid i'm irrational
All i wanna do is cry in the spotlight
And get uncomfortable (alright)
I don't know what i like (alright)
And i don't if that's alright... with me... but i
Roll up with the motherfucking rims on the ride
Black tints on the side like im bout to fight crime
And my doors suicide
And my doors suicide
Pull up with the stick, got her ass on thick
But american express and depress don't mix
And my doors suicide
Think i know what i like
I like death, i like-
I like shit that's sad
Because bitch i'm sad
Because bitch i'm sad
I like death, i like-
I like shit that's sad
Because bitch i'm sad
Because bitch i'm sad
Fucking fendi on my person when i blow my brains
I seen god in fucking person and i know his name
Suicide doors, suicide doors
Suicide doors, suicide doors
If this shit is immersive then i know your pain
How hard it is to walk with such a heavy chain
Suicide doors, suicide doors
Suicide doors, suicide doors
Ooh, bitch
I get M's, i get ends, you get fucking notta (zilch, bitch)
Crash that 1967 grey impala (splash)
When you're holding your own head, it tends to stain your prada
Least we making dollars, and i make a lotta
I don't make decisions i just make the vision
Ima take that pistol home and fucking paint my kitchen
I wont spit nothing with substance till i'm fucking buried (fuck y'all)
Ima slip into that ring like i got fucking married
Seeing all the motherfucking blood from my head
On the walls of the house, on the front of the bed
And my doors suicide (they are)
And my doors suicide (my car)
Pouring out a motherfucking 40 for the dead
And if the lord is in my head, i'm just reporting what he said
Said my doors suicide
Think i know what i like
I like death, i like-
I like shit that's sad
Because bitch i'm sad
Because bitch i'm sad
I like death, i like-
I like shit that's sad
Because bitch i'm sad
Because bitch i'm sad
Fucking fendi on my person when i blow my brains
I seen god in fucking person and i know his name
Suicide doors, suicide doors
Suicide doors, suicide doors
If this shit is immersive then i know your pain
How hard it is to walk with such a heavy chain
Suicide doors, suicide doors
Suicide doors, suicide doors
Im napping on her, parked it in the back and had her gasping (she throat)
Im thrashing on em, i don't do nothin else with what's called passion (i don't)
Im laughing on 'em, they think i'm mad now they cant imagine (you wont)
Cover my shirt with red, now that's called fashion... in.fact...
Don't fuck with the kid i'm irrational
All i wanna do is cry in the spotlight
And get uncomfortable (alright)
I don't know what i like (alright)
And i don't if that's alright... with me... but i
Roll up with the motherfucking rims on the ride
Black tints on the side like im bout to fight crime
And my doors suicide
And my doors suicide
Pull up with the stick, got her ass on thick
But american express and depress don't mix
And my doors suicide
Think i know what i like
I like death, i like-
I like shit that's sad
Because bitch i'm sad
Because bitch i'm sad
I like death, i like-
I like shit that's sad
Because bitch i'm sad
Because bitch i'm sad
Fucking fendi on my person when i blow my brains
I seen god in fucking person and i know his name
Suicide doors, suicide doors
Suicide doors, suicide doors
If this shit is immersive then i know your pain
How hard it is to walk with such a heavy chain
Suicide doors, suicide doors
Suicide doors, suicide doors
Ooh, bitch
I get M's, i get ends, you get fucking notta (zilch, bitch)
Crash that 1967 grey impala (splash)
When you're holding your own head, it tends to stain your prada
Least we making dollars, and i make a lotta
I don't make decisions i just make the vision
Ima take that pistol home and fucking paint my kitchen
I wont spit nothing with substance till i'm fucking buried (fuck y'all)
Ima slip into that ring like i got fucking married
Seeing all the motherfucking blood from my head
On the walls of the house, on the front of the bed
And my doors suicide (they are)
And my doors suicide (my car)
Pouring out a motherfucking 40 for the dead
And if the lord is in my head, i'm just reporting what he said
Said my doors suicide
Think i know what i like
I like death, i like-
I like shit that's sad
Because bitch i'm sad
Because bitch i'm sad
I like death, i like-
I like shit that's sad
Because bitch i'm sad
Because bitch i'm sad
Fucking fendi on my person when i blow my brains
I seen god in fucking person and i know his name
Suicide doors, suicide doors
Suicide doors, suicide doors
If this shit is immersive then i know your pain
How hard it is to walk with such a heavy chain
Suicide doors, suicide doors
Suicide doors, suicide doors
Credits
Writer(s): Nick Fath
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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