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lirik lagu naturally trash – martyr!!

[intro: eighty-eight]
aye! (buckle up it’s time to, woah)
yuh, yuh, yuh, said (woah, take the mask off, aye)
take the mask off! aye, uh, uh, yuh, yuh, aye
(profit plus money gang in it)

[verse 1: eighty-eight]
i put my best foot forward, that’s why the door cracked open
tell her hop in the foreign, why the window all broken
is this car even yours? nah b-tch of course this stolen
now i’m riding alone with a pocket full of trojans
don’t talk sh-t, there’s .40s in the back
we can swiss cheese up your front and we can pepper your jack
we can cut off yours ears and feed them to tyson
we can shred up your flesh and we can make them some tyson’s
feed the children’s dawg, that’s all i do
leave his body parts chopped, rest in peace to the screw
i’m a rare breed man you can call me a mew
but i ain’t no b-tch i’m the version with 2
this ain’t a millie rock, this a money dance
my d-ck hard and i also go that .30 d-mn
b-tch shoutout to the sam-i-am
but we no longer eating green eggs and ham
it’s like we streaming on tidal, 444 shots in my rifle
i’m more of a man than a b-tch’s every month cycle
when i hop on this beat, instincts go back to the primal
cuz i got more cut-throat lines than a b-tch that’s suicidal
i ain’t f-cking with your t-tle, i’m a heaven sent k!lla
b-tch i’m the northwest playboi that came straight from the villas
billie jean said i should just k!ll the man in the mirror
but i’ll come back bad as ever just like mj in thriller
imma cat why coming ‘round like a rat
i got a zoo to run, so don’t you be coming ‘round on my -ss
all my dawgs walking ‘round wit a d-ck and a strap
just don’t ask for your b-tch, because they won’t give her back, huh

[hook: naturally trash]
buckle up it’s time to blast off, woah
molly, perocet, n-gga take the mask off
blood mary, bl–dy martyr getting g-ssed up
eighty-eight, nat trash dawg, never p-ssed up, yeah
buckle up it’s time to blast off, woah
molly, perocet, n-gga take the mask off
getting g-ssed up, yeah
eighty-eight, nat trash dawg, never p-ssed up, yeah

[verse 2: naturally trash]
i spit that easy bake oven, i spit that bread in the toaster
that amus-m-nt park music, i pick and roll in the coaster
from the hip and reload up, i hit a l!ck when i pull up
i’m quicker than sonic, you better stick to the quota
i pour a six and that four up, like i’m playing nintendo
f-cking break the controller and i will play with the tempo
i hit the breaks, hit the pedal, we gon head to the meadow
i spray rockets when i fill up with irregular ammo
betty boop you if you thinking you are better than me
keep on k!lling in the name like rage against the machine
you could add me to your playlist, you know i ain’t playing favorites
you can’t play me like i’m dumb if my lyrics keep on changing
i been tripping off the xannies, look through every nook and cranny
half these b-tches cannot stand me, til i win a f-cking grammy
you don’t know what’s fillin up these pockets, you can’t tell me what i’m rocking
to be honest, you’re either cold or hot on the topic
i’m on a mission, spittin mint condition sh-t
hop out the sp-ce coupe, i’m in a mint condition whip
i lost the keys that i’m posta put into ignition sh-t
i pistol whip, i rip a stick, i benefit and live with it
triple six six six, to p-ss on that n-gga timothy
hit em six six six, times in his yellow t–th
jump a farmer and his cattle, i rip all of his livestock
the man won’t win the battle, i hit em right in his blind spot
i have fun and split like candy sticks and motherf-ckin powder dip
as loud as sounds of houses shutting down in power outages
in panic, countin down like december 2012 n sh-t
sour simpletons want clout, as white as sauerkraut n sh-t
i paint illicit lyrics in the walls of where the guns pop
where n-ggas’ll jump you and f-ckin run you for a gumdrop
the slums of somewhere, where the stoners posted at the bus stop
where everyone knows everyone all because of their mugshot
where drippin thugs and flippin drugs is all them bucks about
suppressors of guns’ll keep you from runnin your f-ckin mouth
a dozen of f-ckin dumbos and dummies are all allowed
no banks are open cause no one can ‘fford a f-ckin account

- lirik lagu naturally trash

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