Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Cult Sag 616 , by - Black Josh. Release date: 21.08.2014
Song language: English
Cult Sag 616 |
| Holy shit, roll me a spliff |
| I’m too high for hand eye coordination |
| Cold sagging, toe tagging the corpses in my basement |
| They’re the fertiliser I use to grow the crops I got waiting |
| I got cockroaches mating and rats raving under my floorboards |
| While I’m blazing on my couch smoking a nine bar to a half ounce |
| Spitting over sixteens in your cypher like I can’t count |
| Making it rain like I pulled the harp out |
| They call me the Great Ape, smoking grade A, grade H, break face and some OG |
| kane it tastes great |
| Call me King Kush, bow to your heiness |
| My loud gives teams tonight-ish |
| Gold finger, the touch of Midas |
| Moving food 'til I give you nigga writing |
| Adidas trainers, surrounded my vagina |
| Bitch asked me for a draw but had cold saw and I denied her |
| You can’t take draws but I can supply ya, with the Cali kush if you got a tenner |
| Someone with a fiver |
| Cult sagging, straight cult sagging laa |
| Cult sagging, straight cult sagging laa |
| Cult sagging, straight cult sagging laa |
| I’m cult sagging yeah, I’m cult sagging |
| I’m in thot mansion, them hoes creeping |
| I’m so high in Cult Mountain, my nose bleeding |
| I toe tag 'em for no reason and I’ve been cold sagging since cold sagging had |
| no meaning |
| No sleep 'til I’m O. D'ing, it’s snow season so the cold makes me rush. |
| No Ian |
| But O. E'ing, that’s some malt liquor |
| Now get some Rizla, throw some OG in |
| Cash rules everything around me, CREAM, get the money 'til I’m feeling like I’m |
| Saudi |
| Like, cash rules everything around me, CREAM, get the money, do a hundred whip |
| it said I’m outy |
| I wrote this on the Route 66, riding shotgun with a pair of blue lipstick kids |
| Doing whippets in a German whip |
| Speaking of German whips, that’s pretty apt since I merked your bitch |
| Cult sagging, straight cult sagging laa |
| Cult sagging, straight cult sagging laa |
| Cult sagging, straight cult sagging laa |
| I’m cult sagging yeah, I’m cult sagging |
| Skull fits, wear this BLAH bucket |
| I was gonna say something that meant something but nah fuck it |
| I’m cold sag running on the spot, bitch please |
| And it’s not a pretty one with cherry’s on the top |
| I’m sitting on me balls like two space hoppers |
| Lounging, on the front yard while the dogs are growling |
| At the cops surrounding, downing Vodka frowning |
| Drowning in a puddle blood |
| Thug, idiot, several ciggies lit, in his lips |
| I’m stingey, I don’t even give a shit |
| A scumbag like mmm, when I’m guzzling Stellas |
| I like F words and neck birds in front of their fellas |
| Looking lifeless as the moonlights hitting me |
| Too right I smoke it through like Hickory |
| One man gang bang, bitches round and neck 40's |
| Say me name more time than Rick says Morty’s |
| Cult sagging, straight cult sagging laa |
| Cult sagging, straight cult sagging laa |
| Cult sagging, straight cult sagging laa |
| I’m cult sagging yeah, I’m cult sagging |