carry
Opps carry knife
All the time
Pushin' through the time
On our right
Hot sluts on the side
They hella fine
Cop askin' bout guns
They ain't mine
Got bullets poppin' off all the time
Got goofy bitches going off of the line
Clouded by mystery, call me Jeffrey Epstein
Write yo' bitch at 22, give her a sign
Write that bitch at 22
Fell for it, she a fool
She sticky like superglue
Man
Bricks kinda cool
Kinda cool how he's flowing through the words
Kinda cool
How he's spitting on his verse
Brick
Brick
He's the god of this shit
Brick
Brick
Always catch the drift
Never need no waiting list
Theres nobody to coexist
How I make music
That's a gift (bitch)
Opps carry knife
All the time
Pushin' through the time
On our right
Hot sluts on the side
They hella fine
Cop askin' bout guns
They ain't mine
Got bullets poppin' off all the time
Got goofy bitches going off of the line
Clouded by mystery, call me Jeffrey Epstein
Write yo' bitch at 22, give her a sign
Pause
'Watchu want
She think she can really appear on my fucking song
I fuck her good, then I disappear
I'm truly gone
I'm bad, I'm toxic
Honestly, you're not wrong
Badtoxic, I'm Badtoxic
Play along
I bring her to highs like I'm Neil Armstrong
'Bout 15 bitches, shes the one that belong
Met that bitch, now she dreaming all day long
(she dream, ay)
All the time
Pushin' through the time
On our right
Hot sluts on the side
They hella fine
Cop askin' bout guns
They ain't mine
Got bullets poppin' off all the time
Got goofy bitches going off of the line
Clouded by mystery, call me Jeffrey Epstein
Write yo' bitch at 22, give her a sign
Write that bitch at 22
Fell for it, she a fool
She sticky like superglue
Man
Bricks kinda cool
Kinda cool how he's flowing through the words
Kinda cool
How he's spitting on his verse
Brick
Brick
He's the god of this shit
Brick
Brick
Always catch the drift
Never need no waiting list
Theres nobody to coexist
How I make music
That's a gift (bitch)
Opps carry knife
All the time
Pushin' through the time
On our right
Hot sluts on the side
They hella fine
Cop askin' bout guns
They ain't mine
Got bullets poppin' off all the time
Got goofy bitches going off of the line
Clouded by mystery, call me Jeffrey Epstein
Write yo' bitch at 22, give her a sign
Pause
'Watchu want
She think she can really appear on my fucking song
I fuck her good, then I disappear
I'm truly gone
I'm bad, I'm toxic
Honestly, you're not wrong
Badtoxic, I'm Badtoxic
Play along
I bring her to highs like I'm Neil Armstrong
'Bout 15 bitches, shes the one that belong
Met that bitch, now she dreaming all day long
(she dream, ay)
Credits
Writer(s): Belmin Delic
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Link
© 2024 All rights reserved. Rockol.com S.r.l. Website image policy
Rockol
- Rockol only uses images and photos made available for promotional purposes (“for press use”) by record companies, artist managements and p.r. agencies.
- Said images are used to exert a right to report and a finality of the criticism, in a degraded mode compliant to copyright laws, and exclusively inclosed in our own informative content.
- Only non-exclusive images addressed to newspaper use and, in general, copyright-free are accepted.
- Live photos are published when licensed by photographers whose copyright is quoted.
- Rockol is available to pay the right holder a fair fee should a published image’s author be unknown at the time of publishing.
Feedback
Please immediately report the presence of images possibly not compliant with the above cases so as to quickly verify an improper use: where confirmed, we would immediately proceed to their removal.