| Turn this bitch into Virginia Tech, ayy
|
| Got the chopper just to make 'em wet, ayy
|
| Dynamite around my vest, ayy
|
| We them G*59 terrorists, ayy, ayy
|
| Keep throwin' threats, and I’ll keep yawning
|
| Light my cigarette, you just keep on talking
|
| Watch where you tread, please watch where you walking
|
| I’m from Vietnam, better known as New Orleans
|
| The smell of death is so, so familiar
|
| I’m that silhouette, that all black figure
|
| Grave-digger, grey killer, Lil Cut Throat
|
| Drag 'em to the river, watch his fucking body float
|
| Dark, dark
|
| Yayo
|
| Dark, dark
|
| Yayo
|
| Two empty pill bottles, I’m fucking duckin'
|
| I can’t call my plug no more, oh no—but I’ll prolly say fuck it
|
| Oh, how I love it, really, it ain’t for discussion
|
| But the truth ain’t that far from it
|
| I keep on buggin', like fuck it, I’ma say it
|
| Like fuck it, I’ma fuck up
|
| Like fuck it, I’m a fuck up, and it’s fucked up
|
| It’s just my dumb luck, it’s just my dumb luck
|
| You’ll never put me down more than I have
|
| You’d have been down, and it’s more than I have
|
| Fake fucking smile with the knife in my back
|
| Fake fucking child, bitch, that’s just how you act
|
| Dark, dark
|
| Yayo
|
| Dark, dark
|
| Yayo |