Lyrics
The bags on the table ain't for weight
They for body parts
Victim skin stretched across the wall
Call it body art
Bodies for the pile
Bring 'em out stacked on the dolly cart
Anybody out there ain't on drugs
Yeah they should probably start (smoke somethin')
This too real
Talkin' bout your life's a movie when the party start (turn up)
But you ain't pick a genre little bitch
That wasn't hardly smart
The script was shit
Your third act really drags
The structure falls apart
So here the fixer comes
Clipping limbs to serve them a-la carte
The horror show was so wack
You said you'd never go back
But you standin' over the stove
Talkin' bout you really know crack
Crack is what a skull do
So if someone gettin' brained
That means it was nice to know you
The spinal fluid a go-to
To thicken the pot
The clique out in the whip
Whippin' the snot out
A submissive 'til he shit blood
You thought they was dickin' a thot
You got your rap shit fucked up
Match stick tucked up under the tongue
Pour the oil, smell the sulfur, then you run
I'm rollin' up in the back of a G wagon
I'm always on G status
.40 on my lap that's the heat package
I'm from a hood where we beat rappers (beat those pussy as niggas)
We way to grimey we don't see rappers (don't see y'all niggas)
They 'sposed to be street but really they actors
I really be with the jackers
The one who be clappin' shit
And pistol packing
Niggas who really trappin'
Cocaine selling
With 60 in they mattress
(Stacking nigga)
And do it with passion
This how these bitches be doing their lashes
I hate niggas that sit on they asses (fuckin' hate y'all niggas)
Always askin'