Lyrics:
Price tag on my head (Aye)
Nice bag on my bed (Aye)
Room dripped in my lead (Aye)
Third eye on the feds (Aye)
Oops bitch I ain't dead (Aye)
I know
dead...
It's the secret santa, and he knows when you're in bed
Ho, Ho, you won't know...
When the secret santa comes and the blood is red as snow
He puts
Old toy trains, little toy tracks
Little toy drums coming from a sack
Carried by a man dressed in white and red
Little boy, don't you think it's
only just learning to draw inside the lines but I think I’m colour blind
Every crayon comes out red red red nose bleeds instead of dreams in my bed
Your
hurt me
I start believing all your stories
But I'd rather hear you lie than hear you say goodbye to me
So if you're gonna lie, do it in my bed
If you're
of the snow is discoloured with blood
Winter's innocence defiled by summer's soul
Red eyes in the dark reveal Death's mood
Man's heart only has a bottomless
Protected by my ancestors hey cracka you aint fooling me
What about the Red line call it fed line
Jim Crow creeping up on ya bed Side
Front runner
live in the lies
I think I lied when I said I accepted you as who you are
Cos I'm still haunted by the persona you made up
Just like the crimson color
It was just boards of rough cut pine
And a quilt of patch work cotton
A place to lay your body down was that big four poster bed
Daddy built it
On the bonnie, bonnie banks of red roses
Oh no, oh no, cried she, that grave's not meant for me
Yes, oh yes, my darling, that your bridal bed shall be
Yes, oh
Here alone, standing barefoot in our lawn
Worms squeezing their way through my toes, tonight that's how it goes
I'm at your window kneeling quiet
security
Bee drowning in honey, the buzz is crippling
By the light I'm kissed
Obliterating bliss, by the light I'm kissed
By the light I'm kissed
feeling
Brace yourself
For when the kids dance on all of our graves
The streets have all run red
So the kids all stay in bed
Free the monster in your head
twisted, so I cock the biscuit
'Cause shit's thick, some say I'mma bastard of a swift bitch
Negro, funkin' it with the style in your ear, bro
To make you
whether you a trapper
Or a gun clapper, make sure your weapon is hype
We got all kinds of shooters, sprayers, bitches
Niggas who hit playa, catch you in
Them fairy tales you tell in your rounds
Will have a shell in the pound
Split your melon to the white
Meat with no melanin found
I could push your
This doesn't help my case
Just blows up by face
Yeah you know I'm working til I'm dead dead dead
That'll be a whole lotta red red red
I just wanna be in
title as gods in bed
Have you beggin baby paint me red
I got rose colored glasses
Bout fitty pair
Without them red flags don't stand a prayer
This pair
The way your makeup stain still haunts my bed
The shadows sing your name inside my head
Falling like the rain you washed in red
I'm choking on the pain you
I'm looking at her in red
Next thing you see she in that bed
As soon as I deliver a message it get read
She don't hear what I done said
Ah
She don't
And your eyes became red,
And I ask myself again,
What do you do in my bed?
Then you said you don't love me, you don't want me
And your eyes became red
your luck.
What the fuck?
Stuck now, your ass in a rut.
Fowler warned ya, then he had to storm ya.
On that ass like heat in Arizona, you weak
I got no fucks on charity
I swear to God I'll hang it up right now
If by 2 more vowels you don't swear by me
Turn your faith in 2 seconds
Walk up
Lambo doors, she ain't ever seen before
Top floor in condos
Pull up wearin' red rose gold
Pourin' lean by the 4, bad bitches at my show
Turn up, turn
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