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letra de purge - vin jay

[intro]
this is not a test. this is your emergency broadcast system announcing the commencement of the annual purge sanctioned by the us government. commencing at the siren, any and all crime, including murder, will be legal for twelve continuous hours. police, fire, and emergency medical services will be unavailable until tomorrow morning at 7am, when the purge concludes. blessed be ypg and america: a nation reborn. may god be with you all…

[verse 1]
yeah!
the purge back, come indulge in the beef
got me rollin’ like a polo, i’m patrolling the streets
got patron up in my soda, f-ck a moment of peace
crack your dome and put opponents in a coma for weeks
jumpin’ out vans, lookin’ like the taliban
blade swingin’ at fake b-tches, you know the battle plan
you never stop it, there ain’t no way to control the violence
i swap spit with your b-tch and gave her corona virus
no monogamys, i don’t follow equality
time to drop bombs, it’s vietnam on your property
f-ck about, apologies, fire rockets at wannabes
am i [?] poverty
not familiar with the plan? just study
finna purge [?] so the fam’ gets money
run up on his new cast, make they spandex bl–dy
get ’em thrown out the whip like a crash test dummy
go!

[chorus]
sun’s down so get ready to purge
i need guns, knives, ammo, murder
better pray to god when the devil emerge
i want guns, knives, ammo, murder
everybody take cover when i come through the gates
i got guns, knives, ammo, murder
it’s the motherf-ckin’ purge so ain’t n0body safe
we got guns, knives, ammo, shhh

[verse 2]
can’t hide, got your phone lines tapped
molotovs hit your face, turnin’ both eyes black
but if anybody miss, i make ’em go right back
tell ’em, “finish that, man” like i’m nolifeshaq
get the blades spinnin’, face splittin’
you fake b-tches ’til your leg’s stiffen’
werewolf, my fang’s drippin’
feel the pain kick in
mix breed, i’m blade grippin’
oh, my brain different
rollin’ up in a tank, trippin’
no guns, i be rollin’ with machetes, tucked
step in my path, i run ’em down with a semi-truck
’bout to run up in a bank with the rémy, drunk
take a hundred grand then i blow it on a petty sl-t
get to runnin’ with my clique, cause trouble
see them mobbin’ down the block with them pitchforks, huddled
everybody gettin’ diced when the big dogs scuffle
can’t put you back together like the jigsaw puzzle
let’s go!

[outro]
guns, knives, ammo, murder
guns, knives, ammo, murder, murder
guns, knives, ammo, murder, murder
guns, knives, ammo

- vin jay

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