lirik lagu g-mo skee – human cloth
[chorus]
that fur hat is dope, g-mo you a boss
and that new trench coat, that sh-t is stupid raw
where they sell those at? how much do it cost?
b-tch my whole f-cking outfit is made out of human cloth!
(human cloth?!) human cloth! (human cloth?!) human cloth! (human cloth.)
b-tch my outfit is made out of human cloth!
(human cloth?!) human cloth! (human cloth?!) human cloth! (human cloth!)
b-tch my outfit is made out of human cloth!
[verse 1]
lit
b-tch my outfit is made of dead people, dressed to kill, fresh to death, make your chicken head leave you
that gucci belt make you think our bread equal, you must be r-t-rded, they let the special ed teach you
i get shipments in packages from the philippines human traffic ’em and then i put them traps on the guillotine
draw the flesh from the bones on a silk machine, use it to sew a pair of jeans i’m finna st-tch the seams
you a b-m, we don’t shop at the same macy’s, them tight clothes got you looking like wayne brady
i’m wayne gacy and my leather face game crazy, this ain’t louis vuitton this a white b-tch named stacy
[chorus]
[verse 2]
i got my outfit from the deep web, you n-gg-s still run around rocking cheap threads
i’m steeping out with new clothes every week man, when i need a new wardrobe i leave ya peeps dead
what’s your nationality, that’s what i’m askin’, b-tch said she was alaskian, i want that skin
brought her back to my cabin, started stabbin’, she wore vans so she died in the worse fashion
i shop at graveyards because i rock cadavers, a lot of rappers think they fresh but they not as dapper
i pull up on a flock of b-tches n-gg- watch them gather, tell that n-gg- sway he ain’t got the answers (you ain’t got the answers, sway!)
[chorus]
[verse 3]
b-tch my outfit is a hundred percent h-m-sapien, he was h-m-s-xual so i strangled him
brought the flesh back to my bas-m-nt so i can tailor it, make it fit now when i’m on stage i’m looking dangerous
i shanked the n-gg- in his neck and he bled slowly, now i’m in your area wearing your dead homie
i rock it at the n-gg-s funeral get up and speak “he was a good man, but my outfit is f-cking sweet.”
you n-gg-s know what i do with a meat cleaver, butcher knives, chainsaws, pitchforks, and weed eaters?
f-ck your hand me down prada and them weak sneakers, my closet looking like a deep freezer
swag
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