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letra de $uicide$eason - six xens the slade god

[verse 1]
ok, talking all that tough stuff gonna get you smacked
said you really tough enough to take one to your back
i don’t gotta rap, just pull up on me and we’ll scr-p
never be k!lling me in a battle
acting like baby, you’re needing your little rattle
i got the money on a sabatical, praying to get the money like i was up in a chapel
i just got a brick twice, tryna live the big life
said you with that stick play and pulling out your mix, why
i was in the trap and tryna hit the homies bricksite
pass it off to zoy, he told you that you need an 8th, right?

[instrumental break]

[verse 2]
freestyle flex, no dj
selling bullets to you like ebay
bring that ass back like replay
i got like 6 out in e-way
she’s on her knees doing bj’s
and i still sport her like ea
cuz we gonna book you like dk
i got homies all up in the east bay
pull up on me, think you nice as me, boy stop it
think you nice as me, boy stop it
pull up on me, think you nice as me, boy stop it
think you nice as me, boy stop it
think you nice as me, boy stop it
think you nice as me, boy–
okay, you think you stunting on my clique like
yea that’s funny, lil man
i don’t really gotta say much either
you know that i’ll beat ya, lil man
you know i’mma smoke ya
said i ain’t no joke bruh
jhit looking like you a zombie
you look like moose, abrocrombie
im way too nice for your mommy
she suck my gun but no tommy
you know you soft saying sorry
i got more likes on my tracks, doe
i still leave you blue but no mac, doe
i don’t even gotta stunt in my raps bro
but you still want the smoke but no maverick
your girl is tossed like a salad

ay, i just went to your girl house and she was like, “ahh omg! it’s goyard!”
i told her, “yo, ma, i know you got a mans but that boi soft”
and she was like “yeah i know that punk ain’t gone do nun to you”
she was looking good too. boy, you look like undercooked potato skins
you still gotta rock size 6 shoes, my guy. you shop in the womens section at ross for shoes
you gotta use earbuds for a mic, son. you don’t even got a closet, kid

- six xens the slade god

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