Released: July 9, 2014
Featuring: BONES
Songwriter: Aristos Petrou Scott Arceneaux Jr. BONES
Producer: JUX SOUNDZ Budd Dwyer
[Intro: YUNG CHRIST]
This a $crim beat
Yung Christ, *59
DJ $crim with that 808
Work!
[Verse 1: YUNG CHRIST]
Crack up in my swisher (Woop), blowin' bitches kisses
Syrup got me twisted (Rowdy), G*59, the misfits
Swervin' and I'm fucked up, servin' time, I'm locked up
Chopper sprayin', Mack truck (bop, bop, bop)
You live a life of bad luck
All my hoes do drugs (Eeh)
All my homies thugs (Woop)
Bitches fucking scrubs (Yeah)
Explorer on some dubs (What?)
This that flex on them with no mercy
That text I get at one-thirty, yo bitch beggin' to get fucked
Leggings on, but I rip 'em up, just enough to slide up in
All about them Benjamin's, dead presidents
I'm heaven sent, you just a fuckboy, that's irrelevant (Grah)
Bow down to your sensei (Yung Mutt—)
You talking to a God boy
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
[Bridge: YUNG MUTT]
G*59, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
[Verse 2]
Swervin' past the Church in all black clothing
Holding up a middle finger, MAC showing
Throwing cash, hoes run and clash—get they back broken
(Gimme that fucking money)
Pop the cap open
Throat soaking in some liquid potion, ocean motion
Toasting to the stars, got a great view from Mars
Spit a couple bars just to show it ain't hard (Bop, bop, bop)
*59 ain't far from the start, all brain and heart
Gotta play your part in the game, make sure you aim the dart
[Verse 3: Bones]
Fresh fruit by the platter
Sipping water
Hear it splatter
Got ash on my shirt
But I'm me, so it never matter
Fuck a job, stay at home
Rolling bones till I'm gone
Hair ties on my wrist
This the doped up ghost
Laying in my bed, feeling dead now
Money stashed in my pocket with the bands now
I don't like rap cause they do it wrong
I'm isolated cause I cannot take this shit no more
Laying in my bed now, feeling kinda dead now
Money stashed up in my pocket with the bands now
I don't like rap cause they do it wrong
I'm isolated cause I cannot take this shit no more
(What? what? I cannot take this shit no more)
This a $crim beat
Yung Christ, *59
DJ $crim with that 808
Work!
[Verse 1: YUNG CHRIST]
Crack up in my swisher (Woop), blowin' bitches kisses
Syrup got me twisted (Rowdy), G*59, the misfits
Swervin' and I'm fucked up, servin' time, I'm locked up
Chopper sprayin', Mack truck (bop, bop, bop)
You live a life of bad luck
All my hoes do drugs (Eeh)
All my homies thugs (Woop)
Bitches fucking scrubs (Yeah)
Explorer on some dubs (What?)
This that flex on them with no mercy
That text I get at one-thirty, yo bitch beggin' to get fucked
Leggings on, but I rip 'em up, just enough to slide up in
All about them Benjamin's, dead presidents
I'm heaven sent, you just a fuckboy, that's irrelevant (Grah)
Bow down to your sensei (Yung Mutt—)
You talking to a God boy
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
[Bridge: YUNG MUTT]
G*59, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
[Verse 2]
Swervin' past the Church in all black clothing
Holding up a middle finger, MAC showing
Throwing cash, hoes run and clash—get they back broken
(Gimme that fucking money)
Pop the cap open
Throat soaking in some liquid potion, ocean motion
Toasting to the stars, got a great view from Mars
Spit a couple bars just to show it ain't hard (Bop, bop, bop)
*59 ain't far from the start, all brain and heart
Gotta play your part in the game, make sure you aim the dart
[Verse 3: Bones]
Fresh fruit by the platter
Sipping water
Hear it splatter
Got ash on my shirt
But I'm me, so it never matter
Fuck a job, stay at home
Rolling bones till I'm gone
Hair ties on my wrist
This the doped up ghost
Laying in my bed, feeling dead now
Money stashed in my pocket with the bands now
I don't like rap cause they do it wrong
I'm isolated cause I cannot take this shit no more
Laying in my bed now, feeling kinda dead now
Money stashed up in my pocket with the bands now
I don't like rap cause they do it wrong
I'm isolated cause I cannot take this shit no more
(What? what? I cannot take this shit no more)
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