Lyrics:
the stuff inside of a Rubber room. Not even Moe wants more too soon. As death looms, the motherfucking Stuff blooms.
The stuffs victims I consume. Dead
again, yeah
With no rubber
She sent me those pics
Turn the heat to ten
Steaming under covers
Go and tell your friends
What this is, toxic motherfucker
You
Jump in if you coming
If you aint then stay inside
On a journey to the top
The rubbers hot enjoy the ride
Skrt skrt skrt
Got us swerving side to side
Wanna hurt a nigga feelings hit his bitch without a rubber
This nigga asking all these questions like he undercover
My old trap slappin had to get
Benji, Benji, Benji, fill my pockets up with dead man
Get the text in, then we bring the techs in
Brand new FN, that shit like my best friend
Go best
dead
But could it be worse? Time to make a stand
They took their rubber bullets, trying to shut you down
You're stronger than this, you know you can
All my niggas goin' dumb
We want the cake and not the crumbs
I'mma step on nigga's heads
Boy you play I'll leave you dead
Step right here, you dying
eating my girl out
GTV 'til I hurl out
Run a plan, get swirled out
What the fuck you so early 'bout
You dead broke at your girl house
I'm sellin' out
to cuddle
Keep it discreet, moving real subtle
His shawty a freak, under the covers
Fucked up the sheets, ain't use a rubber
Dick in her back, I made her
and getting head
Instead I rap about fucking bitches and getting heads
While you niggas stacking bread, I can stack a couple dead
Bodies, making red look
All a sudden everybody one hundred
But not too many one thousand
I run through the hundred, and keep all the rubber
You can bet they want
stayin riding in dem Chevvys
And you know and our pain is "flip flop"
We walkin right dead on your porch
And you know we ain't goin "knock knock"
You
human waste dumped in the Nile
Well one thing is certainly true
no one here knows what to do
I'm Sick of You
The radio said there were 400 dead
in
cause a blackout
Dead end
There's no chnce to back out
Hit the tripwire
Duck from the gunfire
Broken glass, screech'n car tires, bodies hit the deck
As I
a lot
I’m dead game - let my chain swing
Hh I ball a lot
Rubber band shorty you could be my Barbie
Private after party - apples and bacardi
I should use
tattoos are the shit
Add a big encrypted markings
And your tattoos look like shit
A blind kid scribbled with marker
Burn rubber - Parking lot
Tires
[Notorious B.I.G.]
Uhh, I dreams filthy
My moms and pops mixed me with Jamaican Rum and Whiskey
Huh, what a set up
Shoulda pushed em dead off, wipe the sweat
Travelin' down that coaltown road,
Listen to those rubber tires whine;
Goodbye to Buckeye and White Sycamore
I'm leavin' you behind.
I've been
Travelin' down that coal town road. Listenin' to my rubber tires whine.
Goodbye to Buckeye and white Sycamore. I'm leavin' you behind.
I've been
Uhh, I dream filthy
My moms and pops mixed me with Jamaican Rum and Whiskey
Huh, what a set up
Shoulda pushed 'em dead off, wipe the sweat off
'Cause
I want skin for my bed, spread
I swear the sky just bled, red
I buy, twitch my neck, bread
I'll take them to my bed, dead
I might've lost my
the gun went rooty-toot-toot,
As Johnny fell, then Frankie yelled,
cho:
Send for your rubber-tired hearses, send for your rubber-tired hacks,
Carry old
Fake friends who wanna break bread, they stretch like the latex
All of the demons inside my head, it's got my demeanor a lil dead
Smoking that dope when
I'm from a place where almost every face is crude and dead
Minor thugs supply the drugs from fentanyl to Sudafed
Dealers like screw the feds, peeling
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