Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Cult Sag 616, artist - Black Josh.
Date of issue: 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 |