City Morgue, ZillaKami — Aw Shit

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Текст City Morgue, ZillaKami — Aw Shit

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(Aw)

Aw, shit, who came to the party on they nonsense? (Okay)
Aw, shit, why you talkin’ if you don’t want war, bitch? (What’s up?)
My cartridge filled up to the tip, warlord shit (Huh?)
Aw, shit, my dick is chapped, I think I need some parchment
(Huh)

Ayy, fuck that (Yeah), we bangin’ off wax (Yeah)
You come into to my city wantin’ lean, you gettin’ taxed, uh (Okay)
Fuck that (Huh?), bitch, I don’t play tag (Okay)
You talking all that la-di-da-di-da, get sprayed at
Young super soldier walkin’ out with super soakers (What?)
Like a pool party, we walk up and super soak ya (What?)
Greasy with the grease gun, run up with the pole-a (Huh?)
Trappin’ off the Tracfone, a yellow Motorola (Huh?)

Aw, shit, who came to the party on they nonsense? (Okay)
Aw, shit, why you talkin’ if you don’t want war, bitch? (What’s up?)
My cartridge filled up to the tip, warlord shit (Huh?)
Aw, shit, my dick is chapped, I think I need some parchment (Okay)

Pull up on the kid, I might pull up at your crib, huh
Pull up on the kid, tie him up and do a bid, huh
Might shoot up your spot, see the cops and jump the fence, uh
Might shoot up your block, see the opps and let it rip, huh (Okay, okay)
Face off, hit ten, hide the HK
SK splitting both ways like the bitch gay
We spray, we don’t catch fades, we hear the AK
We don’t need you livin’ anyway ’cause you don’t get us paid

Aw, shit, who came to the party on they nonsense? (Okay)
Aw, shit, why you talkin’ if you don’t want war, bitch? (What’s up?)
My cartridge filled up to the tip, warlord shit (Huh?)
Aw, shit, my dick is chapped, I think I need some parchment
(Huh? Huh?)

Ayy, fuck that (Yeah), we bangin’ off wax (Yeah)
You come into to my city wantin’ lean, you gettin’ taxed, uh (Okay)
Fuck that (Huh?), bitch, I don’t play tag (Okay)
You talking all that la-di-da-di-da, get sprayed at
Young super soldier walkin’ out with super soakers (Okay)
Like a pool party, we walk up and super soak ya (What’s up?)
Greasy with the grease gun, run up with the pole-a (Huh?)
Trappin’ off the Tracfone, a yellow Motorola (Huh? Huh?)