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bloodlust - 5.53fxndi lyrics

[intro: 5.53fxndi & grave 718]
you switch up and you dead to me
get ya ass cooked like a recipe
i’ll make him famous on channel three
how yo’ mom cryin’, sayin’, “why me?”
my shoes creased ’cause i’m in the streets
yo shoes creased ’cause you a house b*tch
don’t come my side, it’s homicide
they know me, don’t need an alibi
big choppa gang, hit that b*tch, hit that b*tch for the one time
718 back from the motherf*ckin’ grave, you feel me?
yuh, ayy, ayy, ayy, b*tch
ayy, ayy, ayy, yeah
yuh, yuh, yuh, b*tch
yuh, yuh, yuh, glah*glah

[chorus: grave 718]
i walk in this b*tch, start shootin’ for fun
i’m hittin’ on innocents, you better duck
bloodl*st kick in, i don’t give a f*ck
[?]
i walk in this b*tch, start shootin’ for fun
i’m hittin’ on innocents, you better duck
bloodl*st kick in, i don’t give a f*ck
[?]
[verse 1: grave 718]
if i said, “i’m gon’ k!ll you”, i meant that
if you talkin’ ’bout [?]
if you talkin’ ’bout l’s, i took that as a sеt back
we sendin’ them shеlls, it’s gettin’ his head cracked
i don’t give a f*ck what you think you on
[?], i’m finna get that boy gone
[?]
i don’t give a f*ck what you think you on
[?], i’m finna get that boy gone
[?]

[verse 2: grave 718]
i’m with yo’ b*tch and she tryna get intimate
stop all that cappin’, don’t try and act innocent
[?] finna rip off his ligaments
if you a op, we ain’t hittin’ civilians
out with the chopper, it turn him illiterate
talkin’ my sh*t, talk back and i’m splittin’ him
i’ma take him off the map with that [?]
b*tch, why you talkin’? you really illiterate
shut the f*ck up when i talk to you
i call up that gang, have motherf*ckers torture you
i’m inside yo’ b*tch, i heard she want me to support her too
i can’t [?] to you, b*tch like, i ain’t order you
[chorus: grave 718]
i walk in this b*tch, start shootin’ for fun
i’m hittin’ on innocents, you better duck
bloodl*st kick in, i don’t give a f*ck
[?]
i walk in this b*tch, start shootin’ for fun
i’m hittin’ on innocents, you better duck
bloodl*st kick in, i don’t give a f*ck
[?]

[interlude]
what in the f*ck is this motherf*ckin’ bag
oh my god, motherf*ckin’ newports, n*gga

[verse 3: 5.53fxndi]
steppin’ hard, rocks in my socks
[?]
jury on me, [?]
i keep a ak like i’m in taliban
bakin’ soda or baby powder
i’ll mix it up, cook it like [?]
i’ll sell yo’ mom and i’ll think about her
[?] but i can get louder
got chops for days like a buffet
put a g on like a gatorade
like nba, make him fade away
can’t work a job so i made a way
real g sh*t, i stand ten toes
i’m like paper, i’ll never fold
ten in the closet, [?]
keep the block hot and them bodies cold
if you switch up and you dead to me
get ya ass cooked like a recipe
i’ll make him famous on channel three
how yo’ mom cryin’, sayin’, “why me?”
my shoes creased ’cause i’m in the streets
yo shoes creased ’cause you a house b*tch
don’t come my side, it’s homicide
they know me, don’t need an alibi

- 5 53fxndi lyrics

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