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letra de buakaw - city morgue

[intro: zillakami]
yung germ
what? what? what? what?
what? what? what? what?
what? what? what? what?
what? what? what? what? (okay)

[verse 1: zillakami]
i created your whole life, you better call me “papa” (okay)
too bad you be gettin’ sneakers off of alibaba (wassup?)
i be in your b-tches room doin’ the helicopter (huh?)
i don’t understand you, i’m hearin’ radda-radda (haha)
ayy, i’m the clean up kid, now tell me where the messes is (okay)
and when i arrive, i’m arriving violent (okay)
got the five percent tints on the jdm (what?)
right hand drive on the whip, you’ll get strangled in
makin’ blood chokes (hey), like a noose rope (hey)
throwin’ elbows (what?), like the thai folk (what?)
i’m makin’ blood chokes (hey), like a noose rope (hey)
faking high, i’m goin’ low, you in a toe hold (okay)

[chorus: zillakami & sosmula]
run like the b-tch you are
you the type to always need a gun, like the b-tch you are
you the type to be my f-ckin’ son, like the b-tch you are
n-ggas actin’ hard but never swung, like the b-tch you are
you are just a b-tch, you are (sleezy)

[verse 2: sosmula]
who told you dye your hair and get all those face tats? (f-ck outta here)
all of my ideas, n-ggas try to take that (rat)
my shooter got five years, he ain’t even say jack (no no)
b-tch, this is my year, you could get your face cracked (boom)
just like a b-tch you are (f-ck outta here), cryin’ ’bout a b-tch, n-gga (sleezy)
she gon’ suck my d-ck tomorrow (sleezy), i just f-cked your b-tch, n-gga (sleezy)
i just sold a brick of hard (work), i just got my big ar (boom)
turn your face to mashed potato, who told you lil b-tch you hard? (boom-boom-boom-boom)
this the klean up krew (boom), tell me what the f-ck it do? (sleezy)
if i don’t got my gun, bet you run, well, we got two (f-ck outta here)
this the klean up krew (boom), call me mr. twenty-two (sleezy)
take the clip out, right before a n-gga gun b-tt you (doo-doo-doo-doo)

[chorus: zillakami]
run like the b-tch you are
you the type to always need a gun, like the b-tch you are
you the type to be my f-ckin’ son, like the b-tch you are
n-ggas actin’ hard but never swung, like the b-tch you are
you are just a b-tch, you are (okay)
run like the b-tch you are
you the type to always need a gun, like the b-tch you are
you the type to be my f-ckin’ son, like the b-tch you are
n-ggas actin’ hard but never swung, like the b-tch you are
you are just a b-tch, you are

- city morgue

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