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letra de curse - ykmnace

[intro]
hey, check my résumé
t-t-to bass be the glory
my d-ck go hard, eight (oy, oy)
true facts, ayy, ayy (class of 2017, f-ck n-ggas)
ayy

[verse]
check my clock (ayy), i can’t stop (ayy)
f-ck around, make my .40 pop (pew, pew, ayy)
no popcaan, i pop pistols (yeah!)
revenge my body, clothing no issue (ah!)
b-tch you look sick, you need a tissue
you drop a body, i just might bless you (ayy!)
i’m metro-s-xual, no high cholesterol (yeah!)
where jenny craig? b-tch, let’s get s-xual (yeah, yeah!)

[verse 2]
why the f-ck i’d ever lie?
p-ssy n-gga, bet that pistol part of your disguise (yeah!)
i could see it in your eyes
runnin’ from the reaper, f-ck i’m not afraid to diе
b-tches creepin’ on my line
got my main upset, thеse hoes i f-cked and left behind
need at least two at a time
moved to foreign, took it over, lost my f-ckin’ mind
instigatin’s why i don’t trust these b-tches
two-faced and lame-ass n-gga
g-ngb-ng for fame fake hitta
i ain’t never seen squad wit’ ya
i don’t need a savior, f-ck the faith
cop myself an ounce and work the weight
seen the babylon around the way
who the f-ck they catchin’? not today
[chorus]
ridin’ ’round with sinners (yeah!)
flyin’ on a nimbus (yeah!)
spot a n-gga slippin’
hold on, roll down the window, yeah (ah!)
low-key schemin’, mm (yeah!)
leave his momma screamin’, yeah (yeah!)
curse these de-de—
lo-lord, curse these demons (ah!)

[verse 3]
chase ’em with the f-ckin’ tec (ayy)
hit ’em where it hurt, n-gga make it work (ayy, ayy, ayy)
i’ma make it squirt, n-gga, i do dirt
n-gga, i’m a merc, put ’em in the earth
pay me for the verse, put ’em in a he-rs-
gotta finish first (ayy), i just did my first (yeah)
protect me from my curse (from my curse, from my curse)
ayy, yeah, b-tch (b-tch)

[verse 4]
b-tch, i put in work, spittin’ with a curse
wouldn’t be the first, how much is you worth?
sell you tour merch, i just wanna f-ck
i don’t wanna flirt, why your feelings hurt?
cha cha slide, all in that p-ssy
how you doin’, love? let’s go make a movie
body lookin’ good, when you dress in gucci
love the chicken breast, bitin’ on yo’ booty
[chorus]
ridin’ ’round with sinners, mm
flyin’ on a nimbus
spot a n-gga slippin’
hold on, roll down the window, yeah
low-key schemin’, mm
leave his momma screamin’ (t-t-to bass be the—), yeah
curse these demons
lo-lord, curse these demons

[outro]
lit

- ykmnace

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