The Lab
Sitting in the lab, mix this, mix that
Make a tune from scratch
Got some fumes, not a scratch
Got a bitch, in the bag
I'll admit, she a snack
You get hit, you get mad
I get hit, I hit back
Y'all about water under bridges
Like you can't father up a bit, forget the business
Like you can't follow up a bit with how your kid is
Like you can't swallow up your fears and own the bitches
I can sit and feasibly deny that you can win it
I can sit all peacefully and write like I'ma spin this
I can sit illegally and wipe my mind with Guinness
I can sit breezily, fly up high and get this
Dough, I bore her yet I know her like the back of my hand
Open up a portal to a floral wonderland
The aura is abnormal, left the horror and disorder
But this whore wants to destroy my gaze upon these auroras
Sitting in the lab, mix this, mix that
Make a tune from scratch
Got some fumes, not a scratch
Got a bitch, in the bag
I'll admit, she a snack
You get hit, you get mad
I get hit, I hit back
Sitting in the lab, mix this, mix that
Make a tune from scratch
Got some fumes, not a scratch
Got a bitch, in the bag
I'll admit, she a snack
You get hit, you get mad
I get hit, I hit back
Lie to me
Cry to me
Pretend that you would die for me
Swear that you gon' ride with me
Then go and dim the lights for me
Hoe thought she eloping
Out 'n out I'm ghosting (Out, in, out)
Musketeers we going 3
The homies split the trophy
What prize is on the table for these bitches
I'm unstable with these witches
They shifting the script don't ask for forgiveness
Cause they wanna act like the victim
The bimbo skippin' the tip and just lippin' straight to the business
You tripping thinkin' I'm different from other guys
Swearing you were right
Just cause I hear you cry and now I hold you for the night
A butterfly knife can't flutter through the sky
But you manipulate it right and it might end up cutting ties
So sorry if I come off as a little bit informal
My profession is a high and I call it being normal
I'm the type of guy to find some fun in starting up a quarrel
But don't let the facts lie hoe cause I got morals
Yeah, I got longer flows and shorter flows
I constantly think of new ones to throw
In place of those, don't ever choke
Cause I don't like dick, nor the words in my throat
Give me a .40 I fuck it and load
Get me a shorty who bad to the bone
Having to sort out my songs by the tone
Versatility shows and don't know where to go
Sitting... in the lab, mix this, mix that
Make a tune, from scratch
Got some fumes, not a scratch
Got a bitch, in the bag
I'll admit, she a snack
You get hit, you get mad
I get hit, I hit back
Sitting in the lab, mix this, mix that
Make a tune from scratch
Got some fumes, not a scratch
Got a bitch in the bag
I'll admit, she a snack
You get hit, you get mad
I get hit, I hit back
Make a tune from scratch
Got some fumes, not a scratch
Got a bitch, in the bag
I'll admit, she a snack
You get hit, you get mad
I get hit, I hit back
Y'all about water under bridges
Like you can't father up a bit, forget the business
Like you can't follow up a bit with how your kid is
Like you can't swallow up your fears and own the bitches
I can sit and feasibly deny that you can win it
I can sit all peacefully and write like I'ma spin this
I can sit illegally and wipe my mind with Guinness
I can sit breezily, fly up high and get this
Dough, I bore her yet I know her like the back of my hand
Open up a portal to a floral wonderland
The aura is abnormal, left the horror and disorder
But this whore wants to destroy my gaze upon these auroras
Sitting in the lab, mix this, mix that
Make a tune from scratch
Got some fumes, not a scratch
Got a bitch, in the bag
I'll admit, she a snack
You get hit, you get mad
I get hit, I hit back
Sitting in the lab, mix this, mix that
Make a tune from scratch
Got some fumes, not a scratch
Got a bitch, in the bag
I'll admit, she a snack
You get hit, you get mad
I get hit, I hit back
Lie to me
Cry to me
Pretend that you would die for me
Swear that you gon' ride with me
Then go and dim the lights for me
Hoe thought she eloping
Out 'n out I'm ghosting (Out, in, out)
Musketeers we going 3
The homies split the trophy
What prize is on the table for these bitches
I'm unstable with these witches
They shifting the script don't ask for forgiveness
Cause they wanna act like the victim
The bimbo skippin' the tip and just lippin' straight to the business
You tripping thinkin' I'm different from other guys
Swearing you were right
Just cause I hear you cry and now I hold you for the night
A butterfly knife can't flutter through the sky
But you manipulate it right and it might end up cutting ties
So sorry if I come off as a little bit informal
My profession is a high and I call it being normal
I'm the type of guy to find some fun in starting up a quarrel
But don't let the facts lie hoe cause I got morals
Yeah, I got longer flows and shorter flows
I constantly think of new ones to throw
In place of those, don't ever choke
Cause I don't like dick, nor the words in my throat
Give me a .40 I fuck it and load
Get me a shorty who bad to the bone
Having to sort out my songs by the tone
Versatility shows and don't know where to go
Sitting... in the lab, mix this, mix that
Make a tune, from scratch
Got some fumes, not a scratch
Got a bitch, in the bag
I'll admit, she a snack
You get hit, you get mad
I get hit, I hit back
Sitting in the lab, mix this, mix that
Make a tune from scratch
Got some fumes, not a scratch
Got a bitch in the bag
I'll admit, she a snack
You get hit, you get mad
I get hit, I hit back
Credits
Writer(s): Cristian Bocanelli
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Link
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