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letra de duffel bag - bukshot & mr. grey

[verse 1: bukshot]
reservoir dogs of war, we sworn
they never had a clue about my final form
give no f-cks, stare at danger
turn on folks like eren yeager
attack titan, swing, start fighting
look for the sign, pyres lighting
calamitous dark abominations
end of days, have you read revelations?
bz49-b, operation delirium, berzerker that’s me
pump in the trunk gonna dim your lights
better bite your tongue, don’t risk your life
watching every move that you make with a mean eye
take your whole squad out, call me captain lеvi
light ’em up, suffering succotash
leavin’ your studio with hеads in a duffel bag
[chorus: bukshot , bukshot & mr. grey, & ]
i got a duffel bag with your head’s name on it
you don’t want to see me reaching for the duffel bag
thoughts are making you bleed, sound good, don’t it?
twelve gauge pump, ak, and a couple mags
you don’t want to see the things i might have

[verse 2: mr. grey]
you don’t want to know what i got in my duffel
always got to stay a step ahead of you f-ckos
i go so hard, i go nutso
a tough safe to crack, i’m indestructible
at home sitting in a bubble bath
next to a severed head in a duffel bag
you don’t ever want me in a tussle, man
get your neck snapped back like a rubber band
pest control, i’m the collector
eat you up, hannibal lecter
psycho surgeon, dr. grey
and it’s h-ll to pay, bz49-a
and when my muscles flex
i got my hands around your neck
i squeeze so f-cking hard
that your lungs have nothing left
[chorus: bukshot , bukshot & mr. grey, & ]
i got a duffel bag with your head’s name on it
you don’t want to see me reaching for the duffel bag
thoughts are making you bleed, sound good, don’t it?
twelve gauge pump, ak, and a couple mags
you don’t want to see the things i might have

[verse 3: boondox]
eight heads in a duffel bag, no toe tags
eight remington ballistics in the .44 mags
bz49-g, a walking guillotine
decapitating kings when i pull that thing
chrome desert eagle with a leupold sight
and this b-tch hit lethal so you better hold tight
in the street no light just red on the cervical
turning your collar into a convertible
zip it up in the black leather coach
it’s another man down and another one poached
another big hole for the mobstyle grip
tracheas for the wall and a b-tch get clipped
ichabod crane, better watch your throat
’cause them hollows ain’t sleepy, they are dipped in coke
and the barrel gon’ smoke, free the base of your neck
then the heads gon’ fly when the bags getchecked
[chorus: bukshot , bukshot & mr. grey, & ]
i got a duffel bag with your head’s name on it
you don’t want to see me reaching for the duffel bag
thoughts are making you bleed, sound good, don’t it?
twelve gauge pump, ak, and a couple mags
you don’t want to see the things i might have

- bukshot mr grey

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