Ay, ay, ya
Reach into my pocket, then I grab a couple crumpled hunnidsWe look like some crumpled hunnids
Blunted out, the fuss is something
Paranoia turn my stomach
H1 Hummer, rough and rugged
Desert camo truck to the front
And shirt unbottoned, seat adjusted
One hundred miles per hour, bitch, I seem accustomed
To life in the fast lane nothing
Nothing in the motherfucking gas tank
Dumpin′ ashes and laughin'
Fucking duckin′ what comes from the government
Peelin' out until the sunset
Eyes so low, look like a sunset
Grey*59, bitch, I signed my life away
Grey*59, bitch, I signed my life away
Grey*59, bitch, I signed my life away
Grey*59, bitch, I signed my life away (always)
Back on my bullshit, now I have to pay it back
Put my foot on the fuckin' brakes
Signed up for a life, became Yung Christ
All I got was a death wish, illness, and a piece of $uicide
Fuck this ego, fuck this rap
Easily execution on my side
Homicide, homicide
But we used to all the time
We in the Benz, off the benzos, our depression clinical
Ya heard me?
We in the Benz, off the benzos, our depression clinical
Clinical, clinical mind (motherfucker)
$uicide
$uicide
Grey*59, bitch, I signed my life away
Grey*59, bitch, I signed my life away
Grey*59, bitch, I signed my life away
Grey*59, bitch, I signed my life away (always)
We are tired of this new world
I don′t want to be here
$uicide, $uicide my end
$uicide, $uicide my end
You can feel the bullets from my steel son, steel son
You can feel the bullets from my steel son, steel son
You can feel the bullets from my steel son, steel son
You can feel the bullets from my steel son, steel son
You can feel the bullets from my steel son, steel son
You can feel the bullets from my steel son, steel son
You can feel the bullets from my steel son, steel son
You can feel the bullets from my steel son, steel son
You can feel the bullets from my steel son, steel son (yeah, yeah)
Meet me by the moon (right)
Half past dusk (fuck that)
Back from the dust, Cut Throat
He loves them drugs and guns
Jump in the cut
Got about 20k and a gun (what?)
Got a bottle of Adderall, cigarette butts
Every day adds up
Do I look like I give a fuck? (No)
Every day, up every night (what?)
Bloody nights turn bloodier
Death could be right in front of ya, yeah (what?)
Still wouldn′t recognize her (hold up)
Got a death list, that's some still gotta catch this
Bust up the TEC quick
Die bitch, die, bitch
You can feel the bullets from my steel son, steel son
You can feel the bullets from my steel son, steel son
You can feel the bullets from my steel son, steel son
You can feel the bullets from my steel son, steel son
Ay, you ever had to dig your own grave?
Live your life with no name
Backwood full of dro mane, okay
′96 Benz with that cocaine payin', hoe
High until my death, I got that propane tank low
Gas seeping all over the house, until I say so
Light the fucking match, let that tank blow
So glad I stayed home
Someone called the cops on the payphone
Flames all around me, man I hope they fucking drown me
Crown made of ashes, only way they fucking found me
Forget about me, only way you might not feel so lousy
Forget about me, on my own head out with the price, the bounty
You can feel the bullets from my steel son, steel son
You can feel the bullets from my steel son, steel son
You can feel the bullets from my steel son, steel son
You can feel the bullets from my steel son, steel son
In New Orleans
There were many bizarre things I always saw
Growing up here, especially in the graveyards
And as a child, I spent a lot of time in the graveyards
As an adult, I still spend a lot of time in the graveyards
But as a child, it was a regular weekend thing to do
I always needed to know why
Sometimes my why′s got me in trouble
For my last trick, I don't think I′m cut out for this rap shit
Ay, you wanna keep going, or...?
Nah, that's it
$uicide I'm fucking screamin′ from the rooftop
The only thing I ever did worth mentioning ever since $lick
Burn me a CD of Lil Wayne, that shit probly still in my boombox
But nowadays I keep walking to an establishment
And select myself on a fucking jukebox
If I wanted to cop a black Countach
Drive that shit like two blocks and then smash
In the back of a new cop car, now I think I′m wanted too
Yeah, just get a bunch of face tats, it's gonna be cool
SoundCloud this, SoundCloud that (hey man, cut that shit off)
Man the chorus suck, man
Garbage, man, sounds like a fucking generic 3-6, man
I don′t even let the hair grow, man (get the fuck outta here)
Shitty ass music (hey, man)
Change the station, they fucking wack (dumb bitch, little whore)
They're way too fucking short, get the fuck outta here
Yeah, still feel like I′m losing, ay
Me and kin still feel like we losing, ay
We still feel like we losing, ay
Losing, losing
I'm on the lean, yeah, the drank
I′m on them bars, blowing thing
I'm on a lot amphetamines
Got no time for sleep, lost in my thoughts
I don't know who a friend or who a enemy
Nurtured and disturbed, down from head to toe
Have a feelings sometimes gotta let it go
Plenty of days, thought shit was over
Created a other movement, created other music
Still feel like I′m losing
