five

Lyrics

Where is the guillotine?
 Let 'em eat yellow cake
 Shooter with a nuclear family of killers
 Willing to juice the concentrate
 Fool it's a sauna, light a fire under your honor
 They're talking life to a lifer, I'm liking the odds
 Gimme the water
 Give her the pill
 Give 'em the needle
 Beetle Baileys of this world all getting killed someday
 Say partner, say dog
 Say what, say what's going on?
 Pause
 This is a stickup
 Stuckup motherfucker come get some
 Jet some, he floss some flotsam
 Boss, um, they got salads to toss, um
 Crosses to burn, um, losses to learn from
 Collars to turn up
 A tear the club up thug
 A juicy-jay on a motherfucker, they cuttin a rug up
 A cut up motherfucker looking like lady luck
 So buck up young buck we got bucks like hoes got fucks to give
 She don't give a fuck, shit, you better not
 Heads high kill em with the kill em with the filament
 You feeling it? A filibuster filling bust and feeling bust
 You feel like busting out
 Bedside manner with some dead eye-candy
 Apple-red dye fanny-pack, a sack of baby fat'd better back it up
 Where the titties at? Show that kitty cat
 Better getting milky with the silky weave
 Sweating on the satin sheets
 Rap about it
 Be about it, be about it
 Beat it up, the beef is in the freezer
 But he keep that heater creepin up
 Shorty boo, baby momma, make it clap
 Give it up, drop it low
 Push it, spread it, bite it, kill it, get it get it
 Throwing paper for the coochie
 Slapping gucci, rockin gucci
 Give her gucci, get's the pussy
 Redder in the bed or in the car
 Whippin a rolls, rollin a blunt
 Dick in a ho, making it bump
 Faking the funk, seizin
 Partner it's too seasoned
 Fuck with a Pimp-C walk, with a little bit of mouth
 Please turn em out, preach on a soapbox
 Botox, cold hot, ho watch it
 Who gonna fuck with the trillest?
 The building they building down there
 On the block got no windows up in it
 Back like it's crack for the roaches and rats
 Giving daps to the dividends, backhand a bitch in the car
 Stars are for rappers, the televised trappers
 This shit is the realest, that's how come he feel it
 So hard he will knock it while driving to work
 And he work on the first and the fifteenth
 When knox got the check in they pockets
 He pick it, she lock it, she roll it and drop it
 The acid is burning the weed
 Smoke it out, high as a bird from the trees
 Cali dro, Cali go cataracts, freeze
 Hands in the sky
 Dive in and driving the lambo
 And crying from coming down hard
 Pulling the card, carrying hood motherfucker, my lord
 Balls of the word, scriptures is semen, they seeming disturbed
 Flipping the bird, kicked to the curb
 Ya hunger with yams to be served

Audio Features

Song Details

Duration
02:45
Key
1
Tempo
115 BPM

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