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letra de blastoff (remix) - internet money

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[intro: trippie redd]
internet money, b-tch
hahahaha, nick, you’re stupid

[chorus: trippie redd]
baby, come and have a blast with me
do everything i say like your majesty
f-ck with the gang and it be a tragedy
f-ck with my shooters, they in the back with me

[post-chorus: trippie redd]
f-ck with me baby, come get this bag with me
been alone for a minute, that sh-t been dragging me
craving your love, it’s heart-attacking me
tryna get in that p-ssy, baby, that mac and cheese

[verse 1: trippie redd]
i cannot show these b-tches no sympathy
or these n-ggas, they simps and they h-lla b-tch to me
i was just fortunate, got the remedy
f-ck that b-tch and then dip, i got them chips to receive, yeah

[chorus: trippie redd & juice wrld]
baby, come and have a blast with me
do everything i say like your majesty
f-ck with the gang and it be a tragedy
f-ck with my shooters, they in the back with me (uh)
[verse 2: juice wrld]
you picked that knife up and you stabbin’ me
wish it was a paper cut, but it’s a gash, i bleed out
and the way you keep harassin’ me
it’s a shame this the way that it has to be, oh
uh, yeah, time is of the essence
you know d-mn well you bring h-ll, i should call a reverend
devil h-rns on a angel, still haven’t learned my lesson (uh)
we’re a mess and our life’s a wreck (hey)
toxic, toxic, toxic
the most beautiful things grow old and start rottin’
i should’ve turned away when i found out you were demonic
let’s be honest, you’re the devil’s daughter
say hey to your father, uh, he owe me twenty dollars
we gon’ run through h-ll with like twenty-hundred choppers
we gon’ give ’em h-ll and i put that on my mama
me and trippie redd boolin’ back in the bahamas

[chorus: trippie redd]
baby, come and have a blast with me
do everything i say like your majesty
f-ck with the gang and it be a tragedy
f-ck with my shooters, they in the back with me

[post-chorus: trippie redd]
f-ck with me baby, come get this bag with me
been alone for a minute, that sh-t been dragging me
craving your love, it’s heart-attacking me
tryna get in that p-ssy, baby, that mac and cheese
[outro: juice wrld]
gang, gang, gang
probably f-ckin’ your mama
three k on my wrist like andré
servin’ like entrée
ha, huh, you dig? you dig? you dig?

- internet money

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