lirik lagu ykmnace - curse
[intro]
hey, check my résumé
t~t~to bass be the glory
my d~ck go hard, eight (oy, oy)
true facts, ayy, ayy (class of 2017, f~ck n~ggas)
ayy
[verse]
check my clock (ayy), i can’t stop (ayy)
f~ck around, make my .40 pop (pew, pew, ayy)
no popcaan, i pop pistols (yeah!)
revenge my body, clothing no issue (ah!)
b~tch you look sick, you need a tissue
you drop a body, i just might bless you (ayy!)
i’m metro~s~xual, no high cholesterol (yeah!)
where jenny craig? b~tch, let’s get s~xual (yeah, yeah!)
[verse 2]
why the f~ck i’d ever lie?
p~ssy n~gga, bet that pistol part of your disguise (yeah!)
i could see it in your eyes
runnin’ from the reaper, f~ck i’m not afraid to diе
b~tches creepin’ on my line
got my main upset, thеse hoes i f~cked and left behind
need at least two at a time
moved to foreign, took it over, lost my f~ckin’ mind
instigatin’s why i don’t trust these b~tches
two~faced and lame~ass n~gga
g~ngb~ng for fame fake hitta
i ain’t never seen squad wit’ ya
i don’t need a savior, f~ck the faith
cop myself an ounce and work the weight
seen the babylon around the way
who the f~ck they catchin’? not today
[chorus]
ridin’ ’round with sinners (yeah!)
flyin’ on a nimbus (yeah!)
spot a n~gga slippin’
hold on, roll down the window, yeah (ah!)
low~key schemin’, mm (yeah!)
leave his momma screamin’, yeah (yeah!)
curse these de~de—
lo~lord, curse these demons (ah!)
[verse 3]
chase ’em with the f~ckin’ tec (ayy)
hit ’em where it hurt, n~gga make it work (ayy, ayy, ayy)
i’ma make it squirt, n~gga, i do dirt
n~gga, i’m a merc, put ’em in the earth
pay me for the verse, put ’em in a he~rs~
gotta finish first (ayy), i just did my first (yeah)
protect me from my curse (from my curse, from my curse)
ayy, yeah, b~tch (b~tch)
[verse 4]
b~tch, i put in work, spittin’ with a curse
wouldn’t be the first, how much is you worth?
sell you tour merch, i just wanna f~ck
i don’t wanna flirt, why your feelings hurt?
cha cha slide, all in that p~ssy
how you doin’, love? let’s go make a movie
body lookin’ good, when you dress in gucci
love the chicken breast, bitin’ on yo’ booty
[chorus]
ridin’ ’round with sinners, mm
flyin’ on a nimbus
spot a n~gga slippin’
hold on, roll down the window, yeah
low~key schemin’, mm
leave his momma screamin’ (t~t~to bass be the—), yeah
curse these demons
lo~lord, curse these demons
[outro]
lit
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