Lyrics Human Cloth - G-Mo Skee

Human Cloth

That fur hat is dope, G-mo you a boss
And that new trench coat, that shit is stupid raw
Where they sell those at?
How much do it cost?
Bitch my whole fucking outfit is made out of Human Cloth!
(Human cloth?!) Human cloth!
(Human cloth?!) Human cloth!
(Human cloth.)
Bitch my outfit is made out of Human Cloth!
(Human cloth?!) Human cloth!
(Human cloth?!) Human cloth!
(Human cloth!)
Bitch my outfit is made out of Human Cloth!
Lit
Bitch my outfit is made of dead people, Dressed to kill, fresh to death,
make your chicken head leave you
That Gucci belt make you think our bread equal, you must be retarded,
they let the Special Ed teach you
I get shipments in packages from the Philippines human traffic 'em and then I
put them traps on the guillotine
Draw the flesh from the bones on a silk machine, use it to sew a pair of jeans
I’m finna stitch the seams
You a bum, we don’t shop at the same Macy’s, them tight clothes got you looking
like Wayne Brady
I’m Wayne Gacy and my leather face game crazy, this ain’t Louis Vuitton this a
white bitch named Stacy
I got my outfit from the deep web, you niggas still run around rocking cheap
threads
I’m steeping out with new clothes every week man, when I need a new wardrobe I
leave ya peeps dead
What’s your nationality, that’s what I’m askin', bitch said she was Alaskan,
I want that skin
Brought her back to my cabin, started stabbin', she wore VANS so she died in
the worse fashion
I shop at graveyards because I rock cadavers, a lot of rappers think they fresh
but they not as dapper
I pull up on a flock of bitches nigga watch them gather, tell that nigga Sway
he ain’t got the answers (You ain’t got the answers, Sway!)
Bitch my outfit is a hundred percent Homosapien, he was homosexual so I
strangled him
Brought the flesh back to my basement so I can tailor it, make it fit now when
I’m on stage I’m looking dangerous
I shanked the nigga in his neck and he bled slowly, now I’m in your area
wearing your dead homie
I rock it at the niggas funeral get up and speak «He was a good man,
but my outfit is fucking sweet.»
You niggas know what I do with a meat cleaver, butcher knives, chainsaws,
pitchforks, and weed eaters?
Fuck your hand me down prada and them weak sneakers, my closet looking like a
deep freezer
Swag