Songtexte.com Drucklogo

Guild Songtext

Uh, said this a hit of liquid heroin
Marilyn Manson channeling, panicking, spar with Anakin
′Til one of us leave in an ambulance
Blow the smoke of the spliff in your eyes
You ain't gon′ live 'til you die
Intelligent bitch on my side
She bitching, I'm spitting habitual lies

I hit her up when my jet land (call her)
Got a Swisher tucked in my headband (baller)
Front page news, I′m young Jesus
Eating bagels with no cable on (let′s go)
Been fucking hoes since when Mase was on (okay)
I hope the Based God hears my prayers (pray)
One day you're here, the next day you′re gone
So me and Earl smoking weed on Jay-Z's lawn


Some dope rap on your hoe ass, Tony Womack
Don′t hold back, no, feed your girl Cognac (woah)
Meet a bitch, sleepin' wit′ her, feverish, diva chick
Met her off Twitter, even Schindler keep a list (okay)
Pittsburgh, broke down somewhere in a Fisker (uh-huh)
I could pull your bitch with a whisper (uh-huh) then diss her (woah)
Dumbass hoe (hoe)

She only dumb 'cause she love that dough (okay)
Somewhere getting high reading, Juxtapoz
Hit her up, she come through, watch Adjustment Bureau (that's a good movie)
Moms love me ′cause I′m so commercial ('mercial)
I fuck ′em raw 'cause I know they fertile (fertile)
In Myrtle Beach with a purple fleece (fleece)
Hotel lobbies playin′ Für Elise (yeah)

I'm Ron Burgundy mixed with Hercules
Slap a bitch in the mouth if she curse at me (ow)
Said Josh beard is like Paul Revere
When he walk in the room it′s like God is here
I'm at a prop shop in Montauk throwing tomahawks at civilians
I'm chillin′, yeah

I′m on the monitor nigga
She taking it like a champ
And I'm proud of her nigga
I′m on the couch where that loud is burning
I'm shouting, "I don′t fuck with you"
'Cause I don′t, never love a hoe


But we could play doctor, ma
Open wide for the thermometer
Your cowgirl is crotch riding (nigga)
With a clean, faded fro, lopsided (uh)
Tell the label that I want a white driver (uh)
And tell him give me space, I don't know that nigga (nigga)
Bold-ass little fuckin' low-class villian (willain)

Whole van tinted (tinted), nope, can′t kill him (no)
It′s the Trashwang nigga (nigga), that's what′s up (nigga)
Half pint of hope in that plastic cup (come on)
Real nigga from the start 'til the casket shut (uh)
Present his own case, he′s a basket one (one)
Present-day based nigga, smack the judge (judge)
Riding with them same niggas ashin' blunts
While that bass make his face like he mad or somethin′ (uh)

Slide in the safe, take the cash and run
Know that if he fake I'm harrassin' him
Took the big toe so they tagged the tongue
Out here stuntin′ like I′m supposed to, dog (dog)
Blowing more smoke than a broke exhaust
Pipe, only spirit that I hold menthol (uh)

It's Wolf Gang bitch like you know these paws
Living like it′s '62 (uh)
Spit and grip my genitals (uh)
My bitch just split the Swisher
My niggas split the residuals

Aye, it′s marijuana fields
Pot growing, blaring Gil Scott
Heron while we pill pop
Errand run and kill cop
Niggas know I feel not
For 'em, stop bitching, bruh
Stare and get that grill knocked open

Aye, it′s marijuana fields
Pot growing, blaring Gil Scott
Heron while we pill pop
Errand run and kill cop
Niggas know I feel not
For 'em, stop bitching, bruh
Stare and get that grill knocked open (nigga)

Songtext kommentieren

Log dich ein um einen Eintrag zu schreiben.
Schreibe den ersten Kommentar!

Fans

»Guild« gefällt bisher niemandem.