Lyrics:
teacher (Standard procedure)
And I've forever been candid
Paintapicture be a bandit (Paint a picture for 'em)
And my woman is a bad bitch
Hotter than remix
Closer to God
Imperfect picture my paint is a little flawed
Fake phony ya colors a little off
Guess people do anything for applause
Close to redemption,
like blunts
Drinking this blood out my chalice my cup
Ugh ugh
It's hella dark
Eyes everywhere you ain't getting far
2-Headed horse in the backyard
But I
See these nights, they been erratic
May the bridges burn, I got it tatted
On a horse, that Dallas maverick, through the smoke and through the ashes
to the face, yah, might just OD
In the paint, never have to tag me
Die a fucking Saint
Momma never knew I did it
Raw doggin all these bitches for some fucking
It's a buffer like she scuffed up a car Or Warren's Buffett's puffin' on some Florence
Funkin' Rob to a foreign fuck's in horse cuffin'
ct the back
That dress be looking candy paint
That pussy looking pink
The way she put that water on me, I call her the sink
The gang just threw a car meet nun
make you funny, draped up in all vintage
Keep ya head down, nose up, wide open
Top of high horse, opportunity door never closing
A rich socialite, fake
hank
And I'm havin propane
White toes on dat bitch
like its dipped in cocaine
I'm on my high horse
like I been sniffing paint
They shit don't stank
When
had enough of your way?
Live from the haunted north, in the woods where the fire roars
You fell for the Trojan horse, who want it more? It's already
did sit wiggy
Gold and blonde, blood-red and blue
Sizzled, frizzled, and greasy too
Black woman still dig imitation
The mother of our horse hair nation
RIP Willy Wonka, watch the roof come off
I pull up in that candy paint, call it Veruca Salt
You cheated and you lied, you broke the rules, my dog
A picture paints a thousand words,
As one door closes, another one opens,
And two wrongs don't make a right
Now good things come to those who wait,
to
High wire dancers kick and balance
White silk horses step in time
The tattooed man displays his talents
I'm not the talented kind
I always go
rookie
Go in your shit have your teeth playing mouth hookie
You niggas must of heard me wrong
I blame the horses when I turn the Porsche turby on
My
Purified sounds brush 'em on like paint
Teenage dream to work with Ron Saint
Home he ain't, we layin' tracks in Cali
The dude is excitable
Say, "Hello", nigga, you a ho, nigga (what's up?)
What's a high horse to a motherfuckin' G.O.A.T. nigga? (What's up?)
Hold on, uh, first car was
Gimme fuel
Gimme fire
Gimme that which I desire
Oh
Turn on, I see red
Adrenaline crash and crack my head
Nitro junkie, paint me dead
And I see red
how you knew I'd do it
All my brothers, I would love to paint 'em Jewish
Reinfiltrate the movement and assassinate the music
Exaggerate the ass
forget change, it's like a metronome
And the beard is like war paint
Duke game is my only court date
Outside all year, walkin' towards faith
My North
through the city
Fresh out the shop, I spent some guap, motor work in the engine
You see this paint, they say I blanked, wipe it down with a shimmy
understood, when I ride it’s homicide
Tiltin on my glass so when I pass you can see inside
Murda, murda flat red, paint, now my nigga
This ain’t your
500 horses, Panamera Porsches
Sharpshooter, like I'm in the US armed Forces
I turn emcees to corpses, sons to orphans
I turn the mics on and
Burn
your horses, blow your noses, hobos
I made these noises, took my courses, Jogo
When I call she there fast like a Popo
We did this shit no shout out, no
Discuss these paint horse 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