Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Piss, artist - Death Plus. Album song Garden, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 24.08.2015
Age restrictions: 18+
Record label: Project Infinite
Song language: English
Piss |
I hit the dope two time, take the stress off my mind |
I hit the coast, and I ride, coming quick on your side |
I’m like a ghost half the time, I’m just creepin' behind |
I’m never slow, I follow, take your soul, you hollow |
Bass kickin' like your bitch, kidnap her for kicks |
Come 6, poppin' sticks, while she biting my lip |
Don’t flip, don’t dip, better not move too quick |
I take that grip right off your hip and smack yo' ass with the clip |
Hollow tip spit, like a blue-nose pit |
Hold my shit, I’ma fuck your bitch |
Bump Three-6, while I cut my wrist |
Funk my kicks, then I break the rim |
When I dunk that shit, bloodstain the Timb |
No shit, got razor blades in my fist, taking lists |
Only time I put the blade down |
When I gotta pick up my pen |
Fuck your Benz, I’ma paint the Cadillac black |
Can’t see me in the night with the lights off (nah) |
Quicksand on the white walls |
Living life on the edge, bitch, I might fall (might fall) |
Don’t give a fuck what they say about me (nope) |
Peep won’t rest 'till I rest in peace |
S on my chest when I come up on the beat |
Full moon flex while you motherfuckers sleep |
Make my will, while I take my pills |
Give your bitch chills, when I make my bills |
If I get killed, I know I’ma die real |
Stay real still, you already know the deal |
You already know the deal |
Lil Peep poppin' Henny bottles, fuck a seal |
I love the way it feel, so I do it for the thrill |
Say she wanna chill, bitch I know the fucking deal |
(Fucking deal) |
Young shady motherfucker, really scary when I’m comin' |
If you hear me get running, when you see me, get low |
Can’t see the profit, no bands in my pockets |
So I’m skunkin' up and gettin' back on my flow |
White trash boys, just some white trash boys |
Flipping up the middle finger to these motherfuckin' hoes |
I ain’t talking 'bout the women, nah, I’m talking 'bout these bitches |
That be pushin' all your music and they sell that flow |
I never gave a fuck about a deal |
So I ain’t ever fucking with them, man, that’s how it is |
All these internet bitches hoppin' on my dick |
Life turning into shit, I’m finna slit my wrists |
Spittin' a miss and flickin' my wrist, to these bitch boys |
All I ever hear you do is talk shit, boy |
I hear you rappin' 'bout the trap, but it ain’t shit boy |
Hoe, I been on my fucking grind, and ain’t got shit for it |
What the fuck, bitch? |
Robbing ain’t gon' cut it, bitch |
You got no creativity, you ain’t no artist, bitch |
You ain’t a thug, you ain’t a g, you ain’t the hardest, bitch |
You just a pussy-ass motherfucker starting shit |
I spark a blunt, blow the smoke to the fucking breeze |
Thinking «How the fuck I get out of these fucking trees?» |
Climbing up, to the top, to the fucking leaves |
I can’t even fucking see what’s underneath |
Too high, too much, so alive, but I’m done |
Smokin' nothing but dust and it’s all I ever loved |
I don’t wanna hear about it now |
All I ever wanna see are clouds |
Too high, too much, so alive, but I’m done |
Smokin' nothing but dust and it’s all I ever loved |
I don’t wanna hear about it now |
All I ever wanna see are clouds |