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letra de reapers - itsaedanhill

[intro: itsaedanhill]
put you in a body bag and sign it with my autograph
put you in a body bag and sign it with my auto-auto
put you in a body bag and sign it with my autograph
put you in a body bag and sign it with my-

[hook: itsaedanhill]
th-th-think its time for a new payday in my way
aedan goin’ way up
k!ll ’em all 187 if you b-tches wanna say sumn’
i don’t be f-ckin’ prayin’ but the devil ’bout to raise up
pentagrams on my wall like i was motherf-ckin’ satan sp-wn
b-tch i am a demon yeah you know i’ve been lurkin’
and if these motherf-ckers talk like gretel, put in a furnace
these p-ssy boys be on they lame sh-t like a mo’f-ckin’ twerp and
i’m steady tryna hypnotize these lames like they was some serpents

[verse 1: itsaedanhill]
k!ll ’em all, put ’em in a he-rs-
had to give his toe a tag, had to put him in the earth
had to murk ’em for a bag and dash with the mask on
pull up with the ak to watch him squirm
you don’t really wanna f-ckin’ die today
if i see yo’ wrist then i’ll slice yo’ vein
p-ssy i don’t like you and yo’ homies lame
f-ckin’ with me was yo’ last mistake
i think i’m ’bout to spill some blood
this sh-t lookin’ like a flood
think it’s time for me to hunt
i ain’t never gave a f-ck
p-ssy boy you just a cuck
and yo’ numbers gettin’ stuck
can’t be me i’m on the up
tell yo’ b-tch that she can’t f-ck

stackin’ all these bodies on bodies
you on my d-ck get a hobby
i’ll leave you dead in the lobby
’cause ain’t n0body could stop me
i bring the wrath, you all trash, i make riches outta rags
i don’t care about yo’ numbers, you still lookin’ like a fa-

[bridge: itsaedanhill]
put you in a body bag and sign it with my autograph
put you in a body bag and sign it with my auto-auto
put you in a body bag and sign it with my autograph
put you in a body bag and sign it with my-

[verse 2: xdium]
snakes in the grass, blood runs cold, like the bad
choppin’ heads, body bags, you can’t trust, all these fa–
walk on yo’ block, and there’s blood on the spot
who are you? what i thought, you still nothin’ but a botched hoe
posted like you god of the scene
why you claimin’ sh-t that you know i’m gonna be
i see all the bands, you a laundering mink
get yo f-ckin’ bread up and quit botherin’ me

lights out motherf-cker, when i landed with a f-ckin’ right on
talkin’ all that sh-t now no one’s home with all the lights on
goodnight b-tch, where’s yo’ fight gone?
rest assured that p-ssy boy won’t ever be a bite-dog

- itsaedanhill

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