lirik lagu delirium (rapper) - till i'm dead
[intro]
ride until i’m—
ride until i’m dead or ’til i—
[chorus]
(perfect)
ride until i’m dead or ’til i make these tires pop
ride until i’m dead or ’til i make these tires pop~pop~pop~pop
d~d~d~d~dead or ’til i make these tires pop
ride until i’m dead or ’til i make these tires pop (perfect)
ride until i’m dead or ’til i make these tires pop
ride until i’m dead or ’til i make these tires pop~pop~pop~pop
d~d~d~d~dеad or ’til i make these tirеs pop
ride until i’m dead or ’til i make these tires pop (perfect)
[verse]
ridin’ till i’m dead, hoe, bullets to your mental
hit you with that bap~bap, and now you under tombstone
that chrome up on my neck until my motherf~ckin’ neck broke
ridin’ in that civic, leave that p~ssy boy in tire smoke
tell ’em, “eat a d~ck, p~ssy motherf~cker, die slow”
you could get your body wrapped like motherf~ckin’ cairo
step across that line, and p~ssy boy, you goin’ viral
and you ain’t stand on nothin’, b~tch, you p~ssies got no spinal
catch me slidin’ in them vips, we ridin’ in some he~rs~s
c~ckin’ back that f~ckin’ matte black, p~ssy boy, it’s time for curtains
know we cuttin’ up them corners like some motherf~ckin’ surgeons
got them askin’ like, “who did it?” boy, you know i did it— (perfect)
who the f~ck is that?
i~i~i don’t know, but we ain’t f~ckin’ with your sound
and we ain’t f~ckin’ with the music
like, b~tch, i really do this, these cubans like some nooses
that p~ssy got a problem, got that .223 solution
i got seven reasons i don’t f~ck with anybody
like, every move i make, i see a motherf~cker copy
and every bag i get, i get a couple tryna block me
these p~ssies got no motion, so they movin’ h~lla oppy
i can’t f~ck with these clones feel like obi~wan ken0bi
g~got these p~ssies tryna know me just so they can get a verse
i’ma put you in a he~rs~ ‘fore you get me for some work
boy, i came up out the dirt, p~ssy boy, you gettin’ curved
you a slave to this game, i already shed my chains on ’em
d~ck suckin’ for the fame, you a lame, and i ain’t f~ck with ’em
p~poppin’ out the shadows just to show them how my game different
thinkin’ we the same? there ain’t no way, p~ssy, you straight trippin’
ride until i’m—
[chorus]
ride until i’m dead or ’til i make these tires pop
ride until i’m dead or ’til i make these tires pop~pop~pop~pop
d~d~d~d~dead or ’til i make these tires pop
ride until i’m dead or ’til i make these tires pop (perfect)
ride until i’m dead or ’til i make these tires pop
ride until i’m dead or ’til i make these tires pop~pop~pop~pop
d~d~d~d~dead or ’til i make these tires pop
ride until i’m dead or ’til i make these tires—
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