Lyrics Supreme Codeine - Mello Music Group, Miz Korona, Quelle Chris

Supreme Codeine

Well I’ll be damned, guess who escaped outta the convent
I must be a nun 'cause you ain’t fuckin' with what I spit
These virgin raps’ll murder cats
You think you hot shit?
Well watch these turds collapse
I flush number 2s and send 'em to the porcelain gods
You end up on the news if you think of touchin' my squad
You be wavin' spirit fingers to your family, so bring it on
I don’t mean art school when I say the heat is drawn
Niggas get their cheetah on, sprintin'
If it’s too hot then get out of Hell’s kitchen
I don’t mean the restaurant, I’m in the upper echelon
Of these wack rappers, they about to get their stretcher on
I stick a fork in these potato heads, turn 'em to potato wedge
I’m out to get the butter with the toast if you makin' bread
With that low fat, y’all niggas low fat
Send you to the angels, Shwayze, where ghost at
Supreme codeine, c-c-codeine
C-c-codeine, c-c-co
Supreme codeine, c-c-codeine
C-c-codeine, c-c-co
Rap niggas, need to be lookin' at the front door, you wack niggas
Niggas stylin'
Wave’s like audio files
Waves like rivers, Jack Ripper, you hear the alleyway snickers
Crooked laughter
Niggas lookin' like slave masters
They asked us if we could pass spliff
We was like, «Of course, we have to»
Rattle the rafters, tip over the boat
They was like, «Don't look the chef in the eye»
And pay the pastor, definite fly
Cold case, closed casket, the game isn’t alive
Until witch doctors came in this bitch and zombified it
If you ain’t fresh with the lines
Toodoloo, expose mass niggas with rhymes like Scooby Doo
Supreme codeine, c-c-codeine
C-c-codeine, c-c-co
Supreme codeine, c-c-codeine
C-c-codeine, c-c-co
Yeah hopscotch
Kids swingin', listen close, you hear the blocks talk
Kingpins be makin' deals and while the cops watch
Just tryna take flight
In this cold world we all for breakin' ice just like some rock salt
Speakin' of the language, hot heads let the Glock talk
Gunpowder play
Stumpin' niggas, makin' wine out some sour grapes
Minus the old barrels
Steel belts
Vivid enough to give you chills like some slushees
Puttin' chrome where it’s rusty
Makin' bangers outta somethin' dusty
Off the scuzzy, kitten like a hammy yeah these yappas can’t touch me
Full contact, yeah it’s like I’m playin' rugby
Trust me, I’m takin' trips 'cross the interstate
Just to build with greats
Fools fuel me, I can feel the hate
Mothafuckas
Supreme codeine, c-c-codeine
C-c-codeine, c-c-co
Supreme codeine, c-c-codeine
C-c-codeine, c-c-co