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letra de gremlin mode - oliver francis

[intro]
i been (yeah) locked in my room just smokin’ like, blunts and makin’ beats over and over and over, and it’s f-ckin’ takin’ it’s toll on me, man
but, i’ma make it happen, you know?

[verse]
in the midwest with my gang
show me state, that’s where i was born and raised
i climbed up out the creek
with all intention to go and get this pape’
keep a p in the north face
just a lil’ og kush for me and my gang
ain’t even on my level, you ain’t in my tier
can’t tat this on your face
polo all on my waist, i spent ten bands all around this month, uh
[?] swingin’ this blade, my hog stock goin’ so clutch
i’ma just roll one up, then light it, light it
goyard bag, ten racks inside it
your gang ain’t go hard as mine is
add this cash up, then we divide it
sold a show out overseas
treat this weed like senzu beans
i’m blowin’ up, ac/dc
what y’all know ’bout tnt? yuh
weed in my lap
ball so hard like we breakin’ the glass
g-class with the seat laid back
i pay my bills with a kick and a clap
picture me and my whole gang chillin’ poolside at the villa
i’m pullin’ up slime green amg, that sh-t screamin’ like godzilla
i’ve really been locked down, workin’ in the studio
on god, i’m still goin’ gremlin mode
bit of cdg with the ’03 ‘preme, in the ’09 bronco rollin’ up dope
ain’t none of my hits got features
i’m bunsen, chryse like beaker
price goin’ way, way, way up
way, way, up, way y’all can’t reach us
s500, y’all know i’m gonna feel like young gunna, these girls like, “oh, okay”
wake up thinkin’ ’bout pape’
sippin’ champagne with a lil’ whipped cream on the crêpes
on my pebble stone path
pack full of backwood leaves and a ounce of the gas
hanzō still in my bag
my chrome flash, yeah, all of my foes get slashed
grip the mic, let it [?], i’m about to go dark souls 2
i only smoke exotic, i don’t smoke [?]
lil’ boy, i’m nothing like you
i’m at the crib just countin’ like fifty cash
prolly sippin’ on a lemonade
i pour a lil’ somethin’ in the minute maid
my weed tastes some’ like lemonade
you know i don’t really talk, b-tch, i just go
came straight out of ashland, mo
keep it a hunnid, i keep it a buck
if i ever go broke, i might take yours
b-tch

- oliver francis

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