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letra de f u - christ dillinger

[intro]
the industrial revolution has been a disaster for the human race

[verse 1: christ dillinger]
uh-huh
yeah, uh-huh
had to cut that b-tch off, she thought she was special
it’s a .45, not a .38 special
dropped out, told the teacher “suck my d-ck”
f-ck everybody who ain’t feelin’ this sh-t
dropped out, told the professor “f-ck you”
who is you? i don’t know you, f-ck you
wake up feelin’ like christ brown, say “f-ck everybody”
f-ck you, you ain’t cool, i’ll rob anybody
b-tch gotta know how to [?] if she wanna [?]
i’m f-ckin’ a bad b-tch who look like buffy the body
got so much money, they think i’m illuminati
walk in, two middle fingers up, f-ck everybody
n-ggas hatin’ on me broke as h-ll, i don’t ever see ’em now
n-ggas got android phones, [?] haunted mound (shadow)
i beat my white brokе n-ggas who don’t get along
f-ck every brokе n-gga listenin’ to this song
you don’t like my music, then f-ck you, too
f-ck every white n-gga who do music reviews
f-ck every bald white n-gga named fantano
i do more drugs than n-ggas that run disney channel
f-ck out my face, b-tch, i ain’t in the mood
broke b-tch bumpin’ ice spice, think she in ha mood
she think she gonna stay tonight, i’m the wrong dude
i buy your ass a mcflurry, then throw you in a ub
broke b-tch came to my house in a hoopty hoo
i’m on more drugs than sh-ggy and scooby doo
b-tch f-cked the whole gang, don’t know what to call it
this b-tch got more bodies than jeffrey dahmer
[?], f-ck them, too
f-ck you and everybody who came with you
don’t listen to my sh-t, unsubscribe my youtube
and if you like my music, then f-ck you, too
b-tch askin’ me for money, she think i’m mr. beast
b-tch came to my house, p-ssy smelled like yeast
hood i grew up at look just like the middle east
keep that in my mind, i been booted for days
that b-tch fat, she a grenade
you rappers be cappin’, that sh-t a charade
b-tch want me to cuff her, but i’m stuck in my ways
sippin’ makatussin, got me stuck in a daze
they said jesus christ turned water to wine
well, christ dillinger turned glycerol to cocaine
f-ck donald trump, f-ck joe biden
f-ck judge judy, f-ck yk osiris
i would f-ck miley cyrus
f-ck obama, f-ck elton john
f-ck hillary clinton
f-ck everybody who play for the denver nuggets (shadow)
[verse 2: rxknephew]
yk osiris is wildin’
he should’ve gone kissed that b-tch in private
i step in, put it on, don’t need no stylist
i will up this glock and give you guidance
don’t wanna hear, you a pathalogical liar
take somethin’ from me, your whole hood gon’ be dyin’
my wrist in the pot, look like jambalaya
i’m [?], so my thumbs tired
unc tryna get high, tryna sell his pliers
i told her i was broke, she was like, “liar, liar”
stuck in the trap all night, he never tired
i’m in the trap, talkin’ to my dogs like brian
made one fall smooth, everybody slidin’
we in this b-tch like seventeen bin ladens
2500, it’ll get you shot
i’m in the kitchen, trying to feed the pot
(shadow rich gang) [?] nephew, where i [?] the block
some pretty-ass b-tches, you suckin’ or not?
i could be eighty, still scream “free kay flock”
i’ll pull a chair up and sit on the block
dog in the wheelchair got crackin’ us out
ar-15, it’ll slap and it’ll box
when i’m with the [?], it’s ar-quince
glock ventuno on a tuesday
glock nueve on a thursday
i’m ’bout to rap ’bout the glock in vietnamese
i pulled up with the gulockani
i’ll shoot your ass in ten minute
i told [?], “give me five minute”
slide in that car, you gon’ die in it
[verse 3: rxk missionary man]
fried rice a n-gga
tell you once, i won’t tell twice the n-ggas
i’m like a plumber, i got pipes for n-ggas
backyard squabbles, kimbo slice a n-gga
off the brain, i ain’t writin’, n-gga
street fighter glock, i ain’t fightin’, n-gga
b-tch, i’m flyer than ten pigeons
catch a little b-tch baseballing [?]
.38 on me, feel like scotty pippen
umbrella on me, a n-gga be drippin’
got a little squirt a b-tch, she be p-ssin’
[?] on me, leave a n-gga missin’
f-ck with this old b-tch, gettin’ her pension
these n-ggas so broke, they ain’t payin’ attention
as hot as a oven, hope you carryin’ mittens
choke a b-tch, i’ll move like homer simpson

[outro]
shadowman13, real fentanyl music

- christ dillinger

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