Lyrics:
You won't hear the shot.
I prefer fresh slit,
More than bullet hole.
(more than bullet hole)
(written by blood, written by blood)
(BLOOD BLOOD BLOOD)
with words you was weak to begin with,
Niggas didn’t know Finney can get down like that,
Biting the hand that fed you just know I bite back,
Not about
fool to me
Go get a job or maybe go and learn a trade
And make the grade, that's how you get paid
Steady's on the cut and Action is the posse
Open
bowl, yeah
Remember mama worked a job for her to get paid, she had to clean the floor, yeah
Took a sip to get on Mars, I paid that cost to get up off
screechin while the eyes tweekin
Black lines - Mark a lot
Got the mushrooms from the cow feces
Flower speaking no out season
Put the brown penis by the mouth
roof
Even once had a job pouring tar up on a roof
That boy had it hard no facade its the truth
So now when I Menage and get massaged its the proof
Proofs
or the hole underneath the stair
don't linger for too long
or you might forget why you care
sleeping in the lab just to get the job done
passed out
sit by the fire
Burn a hole through desire with me
Part time jobs in coffee shops
We found love and broke our hearts
Left the foothills away
Stolen
care if it gets cold
All the borders are now closed, and they closed all fucking flies
At the moment had to stay in Bali with my bae by the palms
Follow
I'm a go ahead and let it rip
(Amen)
Channeling my energy
To places that it shouldn't be
Addition by subtraction, yeah
Couldn't get enough of me
Man
I know hell is hot and my wrist is cold
Your bitch a freak, she been ripping clothes
Left a hole in my Gucci robe
But I ain't tripping if the truth
Fifty-two car deckers
Reppin to the world till the law come and get us
You jealous fellas
I'm puttin holes in vendettas
Twist your body
With two shells
Trump Tower and I started with a 10 speed
Born broke had to use a nigga's instincts
Now I get a hundred racks for the 16
Waking up to turkey bacon and my
a son of a bitch of mans myth's
And his job is keeping the urban legends alive
By telling stories and enhancing them with devilish lies
So stay afraid
day for mourning
First nigga get outta line, I'm on 'em
They say I'm violent, my job is pest control
I put that work in
To all the rats back in their
Hollow tips I just toss 'em good morning
Today is a good day for mourning
First nigga get outta linе, I'm on 'em
They say I'm violent, my job is pеst
honeys' to the crib tonight
Guarantee we gon' get up in they rib tonight
Check the new slang
It's changed the braveheart gang bang
When you see me pass
jobs that she worked
That mean I can't get tired
U either sleeping with the worms
Or u gone get to fly
I done seen so much shit it hurts
When I don't
your model
OV!
Psalms 100 n forty four
He prepared my hands for War
Swing this double edge nuttin like Thor
Get down 2 or more
U ever been E R
Back
Look here,
I was at hole side supporting my cousin while he DJ,
Chilling in corner peeping out the grown men's child's play,
Boys walking in and out
on the spot
Give the whole squad a job, get 'em all paid
Anything you need, I wanna be able to say
Yeah, yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah, yeah, I'm like,
the dick more kisses than Hershey's
Yo' dick brick-hard like a medal (uh)
I got three holes for it like a pretzel (mhm)
Tight as a virgin boy don't get
Tight as a virgin boy don't get nervous (tight)
I'm here to serve you customer service (right)
I save dick by giving it CPR
(I save dick by giving it
(yeah)
Yeah, kickin' shit like Liverpool (kick)
Told them, "'Pon the daily, gotta get a job"
Uh, shorty brought a Glock, to his interview (bang)
Ooh,
Discuss these get a job by dave hole Lyrics with the community:
Report Comment
We're doing our best to make sure our content is useful, accurate and safe.
If by any chance you spot an inappropriate comment while navigating through our website please use this form to let us know, and we'll take care of it shortly.
Attachment
You need to be logged in to favorite.
Log In