Lyrics:
stick you for your horse
No remorse, I weigh the MAC-12 out the Porsche
Surely you and me look alike, I sell brick for sport
When you're on the red
ain't fucking
One time for my homies I'm trusting
Without them swear shit don't function
One time my crew was buzzing
And we was judged by 12 or something
on my body
The new Gucci has less monograms, God's got him
Let he without sin cast the first stone
So I built that all glass quad level first home
Https://open.spotify.com/album/5UtsVJYKHegOerEJHpfi0O
Francois:
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1.Monkeys, Whales, Bugs
You understand?
"When I get to heaven, I'll see my grandmother there
She'll say 'Great God almighty, here come my child! He must've got here by
fore wall, necklace wearin' beard
You don't want this money till it's rich
Buy my album, coded by Dirty, set you free
Go against the grain, I got
must be crazy, nigga
Onе song for my deluxe is all I need to do
These puppies barkin'
They done bit off more than they can chew
My album just dropped
I'm
never know who, who to blame[01:19.12]When the stone cold killer in the mask[01:21.84]Is never caught and never named[01:25.54]Darkness running down your
resident
Resident supported by the speaker view
Want to feel it in your shoe
Let me show you how
Platform witnesses
Witnesses, show you to my show-lab
is wrong
Glaze finna get his mothafuckin' rap on
So would whack DJ's back up off the 12 gauges
Give him some room
While the boom from the stage is
How you doing, Redman, I'm Dr. Trevis
Okay, my papers show that you strangled a white male by the name of a Mr. Van-Allen
At a rap concert, matter
straight
Burnouts in a closed space
Still blow the O's, but it's no vape
Homie album like a mixtape
Now he follow orders that I dictate
Chances are you gon'
a misfortune
That's how you were born, ‘cause you talk out your ass
Stop skipping school, man, just go to class
What a mistake, your parents done made
Album's
by and I was still searching for my spirit
I made this album hoping that I could feel it
I still be having flashbacks of me 12 years old in that
ye, 200 dash
12 in cash, potatoes are mashed, dash dash dash
Never cook, clean, or take flights
But im a pro at lie, scam, and gaslight
There were 5
Chauffeured by the latest and greatest strand or brand of pessimism
This album’s dedicated to a basement fulla addicts
It’s too hot up in the kitchen
Had
Because I'm only 12 and I
Know that you won't, Aye
Because you're probably 15 sitting
In your room listening
To this album, for some reason
I don't know why
Yes, this album was made in 24hours
We all met up at Profit's house on May 28th, 2020
Somewhere around 11 pm
Right at 12, Profit started the timer
left at past 12
Shitfaced in sleeper woken up by ticket keeper hungover thought deeper shocked eager bold out no wicket keeper got off bus took a puff
cause they music really suck
They said "Paula, why you take another break", I'm cooking up
Nigga scared, he called the 12, and they still ain't book me up
on to the next
The beat made by Goat, Z-O-6 And I'm riding The coast
I'm finna get rich, so let's have a toast She can't Even breath cause my dick in her throat
drop a new album by the end of the week
I ain’t slept for three days and i’m startin to tweak
Verse:
Like yeah
Upgrade from a dorm room to a condo
fore wall, necklace wearin' beard
You don't want this money till it's rich
Buy my album, coded by Dirty, set you free
Go against the grain, I got
the weapon-try as I bomb atomically
Stagnant they stood surrounded and astounded
By this total square mileage of violence that I brung
I've not yet begun
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