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letra de galoshes - ouija macc

ay ay
where my redbull at?
hol up
hol up

[hook]
give me that sh-t
give me that sh-t
give me that sh-t
give me that sh-t (wicked sh-t)
keep it wicked
keep it wicked
give me that sh-t
keep it wicked

[verse 1]
i fucced a b-tch from compton (hah)
i flew that b-tch to austin (ooh)
i met a witch in dallas had the b-tch giving me crazy noggin (ooh)
in my designer coffin (hah)
i might design a coffin
you will not find me often
hop out the sauce you get lost in
i am a rare concoctuion follow me look baby ouija be saucin’
i got the hatchet each one in my hands and they sw-ngin’ like helicopters
swingin’ these b-tches like choppas
i don’t even need the choppers
ain’t no point calling the ambulance what is a dead body to a doctor
i filled the motherfuccin’ club up with blood and done came in this b-tch in galoshes
i got my big brother marcy gon’ knocc yo mo’fuccin’ heads off in a moshpits
hatchetmane hangin’ off us
haters lookin all nauseous
b-tches telling me i’m scrumptious succ a motherfuccas cautious
google translating foreign b-tches want the wicked dicc in different countries
i don’t wan talk about nothing but money
i don’t wan talk about nothing but bl–dy
i don’t wan talk about nothing but muddy
muddy
xan in my lean like a buddy
where i come from they be zombies putting yo body in pile like a dummy
dummy
white flag on my fuccin’ wrist be hanging down like a mummy
the fbi say i’m gang bangin’ cause i run with inner city posse
still trashgang
still toof gang and these handtats get dirty
ouijamane 730
braids hangin’ purty what they want from me
huh?

[hook]

[verse 2]
i thought i told you lil b-tches
i’m bout my hundreds no fifties
holes in a two-thousand dollar shirts
i’m putting rips in givenchy
all of my partners so filthy
all of your partners be stingy
rubbing your mittens together and wondering why you got you no b-tches
opposites attract so you gon’ be drawn to anything but the b-tches
you a rich little b-tch and you gon’ get everything but the riches
my shawty got hatchets she run up like “give me that sh-t, give me”
my posse beside me you got it in “give me that sh-t, give me”
my reflection on butcher knife telling me
(keep it wicked, keep it)
the voices inside of me ain’t giving a fucc bout no felony this what they telling me

[hook]

[verse 3]
white boy came in this b-tch k!lling em’ turning your roster to columbine quicc
got your b-tch all on my d-ck and she helping me putting the slugs in my clip
still coming in with the sauce when you p-ssies got beef then i’m making it drip
homie you ain’t with the sh-t
shut your funky p-ssy lips
pull you apart like a backwood it look like a swisher the way it get split
down the middle with a slit
i rub your brain like a cl-t
told your b-tch open her mouth
had to ash my cigarette
the wicked sh-t is what you want
wicked sh-t is what you get

[hook]

- ouija macc

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