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letra de love language - billion man rebellion

[verse 1: cf]
“f-ck you! pay me!”—that’s my love language
(word!) and you could eat a d-ck with a club sandwich
i’m about to get twist, but i don’t touch tablets
the blood rushing, it’ll flush you, give ‘em flood damage
son, i lowered my standards and got the dub status
from above average like a plug that turned drug addict
what the f-ck happened? now i’m up at it, went through that
rough patch, it’s a tough path, but i must pass it
word to nick, this a marathon, so hurry, soldier
they couldn’t k!ll my hustle—f-ck you [?]
ain’t no heir to hold a throne, it don’t carry over
they dead us, fed-connected—word to eric holder
hold up. roll up, and then i load up
the flow i air’ll leave holes in the ground like a terremoto
got ‘em standing stiff, looking like some terracotta
i’ma terrorize ‘em. y’all sweeter than cherry colas

[verse 2: dontique]
they era
so soft, i can already hear snitches saying, “stop witness-blaming”
teacher must be cesar millan, dog, you’s a b-tch in training
leaking, claiming trolling just entertainment. in dreams
running from hot flashes like old chicks that won’t admit to changes
just used to quick exchanges. we from a different cloth
if sh-t get dangerous, it’s cobra laughing with a kalashnikov
palette, i’ll blend the colors, tryna get this picture off
depending on how well the scenery’s painted, you could sniff the moss
same old contract, different boss. want us
to line ‘em up like ‘50s phone operators and pick ‘em off
n-gga, you must be catching contact, whipping soft
thinking you won’t get rocked like tombs caving in on mrs. croft
hungry, and these wolves ain’t tryna miss a course
laughing at defenses they use to keep us at bay. from a place
where even lost facial expressions say there’s new pall-
-bearers every day, b. don’t get carried away
[verse 3: nems]
ayyo, “f-ck your life!”—that’s my love language
that tough sh-t go out the window when the slug bang ya
slash the back of your neck, no macarena
i was selling crack. you was jerking off to topanga
i took your b-tch to the crib, and then we trained her
bent her over, went up her b-tt with three sangers
and she loved it. you a model for banana republic
i’m on the ave with my shirt off, eating chicken cutlets
like, “f-ck it. what you staring at?”
she said i look better with no clothes—b-tch, i’m aware of that
run up in your crib with the blower like [?]
kick your f-cking kid down the stairs like, “where you parents at?’
you put mousse in your hair and can’t wear a hat
ha! that’s weird, i can’t trust you
your girl had my d-ck in her mouth and said she loves you
ha! but what’s love gotta do with this?
beat you up in front of the church and steal your crucifix
f-ck your life. you a stupid b-tch

- billion man rebellion

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