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letra de miss the rage - remix - yung kage

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[intro: shleem pink!]
just like this sh-t
let’s f-ck this sh-t
baby, blow my brains out
baby, blow my

[chorus: shleem pink!]
can’t feel a d-mn thing
can’t feel a d-mn thing no more
can’t feel a d-mn thing
can’t feel a d-mn thing no more
sippin’ on the spot
yeah, pour it to the top
yeah, bad b-tch on my c-ck
counting money, never stop, yeah
baby, blow my
can’t feel a d-mn thing
can’t feel a d-mn thing no more
can’t feel a d-mn thing
[verse 1: xanakin skywok]
n—-s on they f-ck sh-t, let ’em drum hit
bussin’, i-i ain’t never love a b-tch, so f-ck this
it’s just more than that, you two been playing to rob, but don’t cliff
you a dumb sh-t, and you b-tch be done, but don’t cl!ck
cop the louie bags, hold but forty, crispy blues, rockin’ on
hit your blockin’ on, leave your iron fade, prog it up
n—-s i put on, but i know she really talking on
smoke a lot of woods, take your b-tch [?] her

[verse 2: yung kage]
we blowing brains out, you know
oh, cool b-tch, get that out the road
kn-knocking up, don’t want me stick now she hopping blunts
pop xans, got cold, i don’t feel no love
automatic with my shooters, we’ve just countеd up
two-two, i’m running shots like i’m coming up
miss me, i’m way too fast, that sh-t kinda suck
cutthroat, we taking chains, yеah, we choppin’ up
co-cool wrists, dead eyes be dancing like i’m outta though
cat sauce on the bit, told that post malone
cut them b-tch that i don’t know, i pop them hitters like chancellor
pop that p-ssy, we nacking up, hop it in these and light it up
in-in-in-in these days are done
i’d drive a drop top and be acrobat
porsche carrera, we called it up
knocking up, we skurting low
we blowing brains out, oh
[chorus: schleem pink!]
can’t feel a d-mn thing
can’t feel a d-mn thing no more
can’t feel a d-mn thing (yeah, yeah)
can’t feel a d-mn thing (yeah, yeah)

[verse 3: kiid spyro]
glo-glo-glocky in my pocket, test me, i’m gon’ f-cking pop it
shooting with that pocket rocket, don’t play with me, trying to stop it
f-ck up on this b-tch, they can’t b-tch this down (down)
they can’t b-tch this down (down), they can’t b-tch this down, down, down
throw it up, up, up, audi
she gon’ suck, suck, suck, suck, suckety (bam)
we-we gon’ take his motherf-cking chain
i-i-i-i-i don’t give a f-ck about a thing
effin’ on me, i go f-cking “ay”
hollow tips b-tch they full of blanks
i can’t f-ck with shorty cause she lame (lame)
fevies in here bustin’ out your brain (brain)
i can keep on playing all these games (games)
i can keep on slaying all these gangs (gang, gang)

[chorus: shleem pink!]
can’t feel a d-mn thing
can’t feel a d-mn thing no more
can’t feel a d-mn thing
can’t feel a d-mn thing no more
sippin’ on the spot
yeah, pour it to the top

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