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red rum - gudda gudda lyrics

[verse 1]
all red g.t., dipping in that turning lane
red rum gudda, b*tch, i come here to murder lames
y.m.c.m.b., call that sh*t the murder gang
the booth is like a coffen, when i get in here, i murder things
i’m on one, where them hoes at?
they want a picture with me, call me kodak
gun c*cked, n*gga, i let him hold that
real n*gga though, but you already know that
i’m on a paper chase, and i ain’t stopping for a second
i was starving, then i ate, and now i’m back here for my seconds
i am living out my dreams, chilling with your queen
and her legs and her thighs, is what i’m tryna get between
man, i’m tryna get loose, patrone mixed with the juice
louis v animal n*gga, coming straight from out the booth
and i’m spitting on the features, like i got a missing tooth
david copperfield roof, hit the b*tton, it go poof
i’m on fire, i’m on fire, pistol singing like the quire
get your girl in my bed, make her hit high notes like mariah
man, my cup is still muddy, dirty sprite, i love it
hit the party, spike the punch, man, i be thugging it in public
i’m a wild boy, trap like a cowboy
2 revolvers in the holster, cl!ck, pow, boy
f*ck next n*gga, i got now, boy
dope flow, have some coke in the smile, boy
[chorus]
red rum, n*gga
red rum
i come to murder sh*t, here i come
red rum, n*gga
red rum
i say i come to murder sh*t, b*tch, here i come

[verse 2]
believe me when i tell you, boy, ain’t a soul stopping mine
it’s m.o.b., but best believe, we throwing up them dollar signs
stop it, slime, i make my young n*ggas turn sh*t to columbine
trentchcoat, yoppers underneath, but get your glock in line
it’s popping 5, i’m on it
destroy all my opponents
put a hole in the middle of your head, and call it a doughnut
i am wreckless, talking wreckless, you don’t respect it, then get checked
scope on your dome, you check me, i don’t check it
hundred grand up in the duffle, ain’t no need to double check it
sh*t, i got it from the [?] you might find something extra
y.m.c.m.b. business, god is my wittness
i’m the sickest n*gga spitting, and the flow is nasty like syfilis
i’m a tad bit gifted, you n*ggas is on my sh*t list
5 thousand to the shooter, now n*ggas is on my hit list
stacking dollar after dollar, boy, that’s how the bread come
murder 1, cl!ck clack, boy, we call that red rum
[chorus]
red rum, n*gga
red rum
i come to murder sh*t, here i come
red rum, n*gga
red rum
i say i come to murder sh*t, b*tch, here i come

- gudda gudda lyrics

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