a b c d e f g h i j k l m n o p q r s t u v w x y z 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 #

letra de me & my dog - yung problem

i keep my hood up as i walk, i don’t talk to all you much
tryna lace my lanky body up with opioids and such
if i don’t keep a high, i put a bullet through my head
i’m popping bennies just so i can go to bed
mother-f-ck or f-ck a fed
had my mother f-cking scared when i bled
had my mind on they pens, and now my mind on the lead
if west virginia don’t take me, i’ll take the high road instead
here i could hit the wrong l!ck and i’m dead
they got straps on the kids
i was pushing for a dime to feed my anorexic b-tch
she was looking for i love you, maybe i don’t give a sh-t
hoes broke, put the tab on her teats
i’m like clay when i come in thе sheets, no thylamide
i see my darkness in my shadow, pray to heavеn above
that sadness staying off the paint for the love
and i had seen my heart pacing to run
because i ain’t got a home
still f-ck a gang for another night alone
fit a patriarchal mould
so she patriotic, do as she told
my ice is colder than your city if what glitters is gold
orange rappers with the 4’s, 4 girls in they suite life
my ring finger down, brodie married to the east side

f-ck a chart, i been a top my whole life motherf-cker
been around the block now twice motherf-cker, huh
let em know to f-ck with them, like i don’t got the d-mn time
i’m busy, brodie, hit me on the landline, sh-t
cuz the hoes had to eat, hoes had to eat
see a bad, bad b-tch looking pretty on your street
hoes had to eat, all the hoes had to eat
made a thanksgiving dinner offa government meat
all these southern motherf-ckers playing with me
you’ll find me ten years, back in class, spraying that heat
okay, b-tch, better make your bed under your sheets
the way i’m popping off my sh-t, you’ll find me dead in a week
nah, cuz all these gunned motherf-ckers playing with me
you’ll find me ten years, back in class, spitting my heat
now, b-tch, better make your bed under your sheets
the way i’m popping off my sh-t, you’ll find me dead in a week

i keep my hood up as i walk, i don’t talk to all you much
tryna lace my lanky body up with opioids and such
like i whip it out and spray it, making p-ssy b-tches dance
if only i could keep my p-n-s in my pants
nah, nah, i hold my hood up as i walk, i don’t talk to all you much
tryna lace my lanky body up with opioids and such
just another man’s trash that i’m taking out to bed
beat my baby up then kiss her on the head
i’m a pagan taking steps for god, inbred to ill-bred
before we cried, taught to draw bloodshed
that’s why they necks is f-cking red
them kanawha county kids about the lead
i could hit the wrong l!ck and i’m motherf-cking dead

- yung problem

letras aleatórias

MAIS ACESSADOS