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lirik lagu distrokid – christ dillinger, dj smokey & rxknephew

[intro: rxknephew]
(we will get you k!lled)
me and christ got a new label, fentanyl records
don’t make pull up to the distrokid headqu*
me and christ got a new label, fentanyl records
don’t make pull up to the distrokid headqu*
me and christ got a new label, fentanyl records
don’t make pull up to the distrokid headquarters (what the f*ck)
f*cked eleven am, and kicked her out noon
i got new fentanyl, it’s comin’ soon
(this song is terrorism)
yeah
(based negative squad)

[chorus: rxknephew]
girl, i want some head while your pants down
i’m here to get money, got grams out
gucci frames on my face, that’s why i stand out
tell that n*gga, “calm down,” knock ya man out
eight*hour drive made me eighty thousand
right from the trenches, girl, that’s why i’m wildin’
rick owens on my body, i don’t need a stylist
how you much you got? pay for it, ten thousand

[verse 1: rxknephew]
top down z06 when i pulled off
you know the price for the drugs, just don’t p*ss me off
n*gga broke as h*ll, i don’t wanna talk to you, we don’t get along
you can call me mr. fresh as sh*t or mr. been ballin’
your jewelry fake as h*ll, fall off like ace hood
it’s tatted on my head, baby, i’m from a real hood
got an old b*tch who bad as h*ll, look like megan good
run you over f*150 like the new suge
n*gga, christ dillinger got six bedrooms
he like, “neph, to the left, that’s the head room”
uncle elroy, that’s the boom*boom room
brodie got a mask on his face, n*gga think he doom
f*cked eleven am, and kicked her out noon
i got new fentanyl, it’s comin’ soon
me and christ got a new label, fentanyl records
don’t make pull up to the distrokid headquarters (holy sh*t)
i made five*hunnid thousand through distrokid
who the f*ck is you to tell me don’t pop my sh*t?
i feel like jay*z, can i live?
we was so hungry, they could see our ribs
brand new watch like ben 10
[verse 2: christ dillinger]
clock on my wrist d*mn near bigger than the big ben
and these balenciaga’s on me cost bout twelve*fifty
i used to start my break at ten, come back at twelve*fifty
every time i step into that kitchen, got my heat wit’ me
walkin’ in the party wit’ my shooter, look like yeat wit’ me
labels keep on blowin’ up my phone, they wanna speak wit’ me
you gon’ have to add another zero just to meet wit’ me
the only label that we signin’ to is getyouk!lled
if you come through wit’ the right amount, then we can get you pills
i tell a b*tch to call her ex and get his credit card
way before i was sellin’ records, i was sellin’ hard
cocaine look like megan good, it’s ’bout to stomp the yard
i told that girl you ride wit’ me, you gotta take a charge
we got more coke inside the greenroom than bruno mars
for that brand new saint laurant she eat the d*ck up in the car
i’m the one that brought the xanax bars inside the bar
i feel i’m lil peep because i raised the bar
and you ain’t even gotta push this n*gga, you can get robbed
i’m just like kramer on seinfeld, never had a job
this n*gga nephew got six houses all in different codes
we shoot the f*ck up out your block in cars wit’ different modes
i got b*tch that look like kylie jenner mixed wit’ amber rose
i got like fifteen different b*tches when i hit the road (holy f*cking sh*t)
so many attachments on my gun, look like phil of the future
this b*tch on molly, percocet, this b*tch think she future
this b*tch sell p*ssy out a traphouse and done got a bag
i’ma be like xxx, droppin’ after i’m dead
[chorus: rxknephew]
girl, i want some head while your pants down
i’m here to get money, got grams out
gucci frames on my face, that’s why i stand out
tell that n*gga, “calm down,” knock ya man out
eight*hour drive made me eighty thousand
right from the trenches, girl, that’s why i’m wildin’
rick owens on my body, i don’t need a stylist
how you much you got? pay for it, ten thousand

[outro]
(crack rock records)
(opp genocide)

- christ dillinger dj smokey rxknephew

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