Lyrics:
serum which's pink, let's go!
Doodling on a ceiling, wear a crest cut, I'm a punk, let's go!
When I'm done puking I often lay down on the sink!
Pink pink
hate the word later
This why I dont ever reach ask for a favor
Interest came with the offer on the table
Thirty hollow leave the liver infested
None can
a place just to put the whole ay
I got a place just to put the whole team on
Shawty wan talk bout trips out to Lima
I fill my cup it go straight to my liver
motherfucker
Man I'm going through life
And trying to celebrate
Super long nights
Super long days
Living through my liver and I bet it's gone say
Go on head
whiskey in your liver
Duel of the Iron Mic, it's the fifty-two fatal strikes!
This is not a eighty-five affair, made clear
when the Gods get
whiskey in your liver
Duel of the iron mic, it's the fifty-two fatal strikes!
This is not a eighty-five affair, made clear
When the gods get
chokehold tightening
The marker was permanent
Now I've got a temperament
Ink sinking into my skin, and I'm letting all of my vices win
My laces were left
get liver
I'ma, rhymer, with a tim-er attack
To your mind, a reminder of what kind of headliner
You'll see, when you come to the show
get liver
I'ma, rhymer, with a tim-er attack
To your mind, a reminder of what kind of headliner
You'll see, when you come to the show
the gizzard
With a little bit of last night's dinner, liver
Standby for the clan by the river
Built ramps in summer, tanned hides in the winter, anti-winner
serum, I can't hear 'em, who?
Alex with the fuckin' loaded thirty-oh-two, 'cause
This is for the whores, and the kicked over stores
And fifty-four
With the zipper
HK In the coat he's a killer
Bullets hit ya throat and ya liver
Keep your heater in the summer and the winter
Put the honey in that
Paid no attention to all the smoke & mirrors
Except the smoke we clearing
Out the bong we drawing nearer
Closer to that focus serum
Folks be weird n
little dresses
Alone in my mortuary
And the serum is necessary
I hurdle em down the stairway
I know that it seems excessive but
People are hard to carry
I
an ampersand
I'm hitting switches in the Bentley and the camper van
The most prestigious, the bloated livers
Rub shoulders with the richers as well as the rogue
This poison smells like marker pens
My liver's been talking
She's off her head
Beat me in
Fatty deposits
My medicine
There's nothing to see
There's
but hold the serum
Rub the things together, then you clear 'em, flatline
The prosciutto, olives from Tunisia
Drums are hittin' hard because they
If I should resuscitate
Or just suffocate and die
I wish I could find a serum
But that's just the addict in me
Looking for a pill to cure him
The Day
phone don't have a headphone jack
And maybe the music flows from that
Bone conduction, got a bassline wiggling with your liver
Filter out the shit
Try to bury hatchets like an article with libel
But I left a marker so the target never final
Pain is displayed from the words spoken out the smoking
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