a b c d e f g h i j k l m n o p q r s t u v w x y z 0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 #

project pimp - ruby rougarou, ruby da cherry & pwgood lyrics

[intro]
this a $crim beat
dj $crim with that 808

[verse 1: ruby rougarou]
they figure me a dead motherf*cker
leaving motherf*cker’s heads stuck under the covers
but i wonder if they know i got a $uicide kit?
granting me a death wish, razor blade slidin’ up my wrist, uh
unleash the lead from my pistol into my head
pourin’ cristal on my dead body
teflon don, leave you lookin’ fresh, sprawled out on my lawn
don’t call me gotti, b*tch, my name is oddy, or ruby da cherry
no, this not blood, it’s just muscadine made from the juice of the berry
take a little sip, poisoning the pit
half*dead motherf*ckers throwin’ up the cl!ck
$l!ck $loth tellin’ me, “we got to dip”
calling on shenron, grant me a wish
i wish that you could enter the dragon, the chambers of the triple six
so i can stop the bragging, that will never happen
i’m in the back of a wagon slittin’ my wrists
wave a blood stain, white flag, dragging my body into the mist (—to the mist)
take your best shot
aim it, c*ck it, know you’re gonna miss
not leaving a note, i’m leaving a list
$uicideboy, b*tch
[verse 2:ruby da cherry]
if it was up to me, i would f*ck it up
f*ck everything and bust a nut
yung mutt never smiles, got to cut me one
on my flip phone, dialin’ nine one*one
i need a pick me up, so come and pick me up
so i can pick me up about sixty bucks worth of sticky nugs
just a quick re*up, then i’m up, up, and away
b*tch, i’m grey, take me to my f*cking grave
b*tch, i’m broke
like the bone in your back, get the f*ck up off my wave
let me drown in peace, b*tch
bring a gun to the beach, b*tch
blow my brains away
grey matter scattered in the sand, surfing blood*soaked waves

[verse 3:blanco leopardo ]
i walk up in this b*tch like it’s my momma house (it’s hustle)
watch how we hit below, we hit the club and shut it down
can’t compete with a hustler boy (squad), throw in the towel
me and my nina see we partnered like keenan and kel (i’m mean)
my cash up stack racked, whole team flossed up (team)
ching*ching, check my style, know you see i’m bossed up (i know you see me, b*tch)
cash on his head that get him chopped up quick (it’s on, man)
he talking war but don’t think he got enough clips (oh yeah)
bet for the cash that your p*ssy ass play snitch (it’s hustle)
we sn*tch and dash just to make your fam, to be rich (it’s hustle)
east memphis man, i can show you pain real quick (it’s hustle)
watch who you playing wit’, lil p*ss
[verse 3:yung mutt]
ayy, $l!ck, it’s yo’ conscience
see you buildin’ up violence, you itchin’ to murder
itchin’ to murk ’em
you know what i gotta say, “k!ll ’em all and get locked away”
k!ll yourself and just end this pain, you gon’ burn in h*ll anyway
f*ck the preachers and what they say
grip the a to the k, and then let it spray
grip the mac, grrat! and just go insane
grab that b*tch, f*ck her once, and don’t ever call
get that money, then you say, “f*ck ’em we ball”
they don’t want you to win, just always fall
but i’m tourin’ for spring, summer, and the fall
wake up and pop me a adderall
wake up and pop me two adderall
got the sticks, and we don’t let that ladder fall

[verse 4: 40 blunts]
yuh, yuh, yuh
$outh $ide $uicide, k!ll yourself, ho (ayy)
say you gettin’ money (yuh), but your numbers don’t show (yuh, yuh), you a liar
baseball bat fully wrapped in barbed wire (yuh, yuh, yuh)
for anyone that’s tryna get by us (b*tch)
i been thinkin’ a lot (yuh, yuh), i see these rappers tryna get at my spot
robb told me (yuh), “you gotta get it how you live” (yuh, yuh)
told that b*tch (b*tch, b*tch), “you better get up out my biz” (b*tch)
pickle*breath*ass ho with a face like thizz (shut the f*ck up)
you don’t want no issue with nose seen more blow (yuh, yuh)
than most nose seen a tissue (yuh, yuh)
i got anxiety so i can’t really do a interview (yuh, b*tch, yuh)
don’t come close to me (shut the f*ck up)
i’m not the one to really do it how it’s ‘posed to be (yuh, yuh, yuh)
independent, tell that label to get over me (yuh)
i’m over here with my peers, gettin’ rich point blank (b*tch, b*tch)
before i bring her to the crib (yuh), make sure that b*tch don’t stink (yuh, yuh, b*tch)
ain’t no rules to the game, talk how you want (yuh)
walk how you want (yuh), my job is the sh*t
i used to clean up sh*t from the rim of the toilet (b*tch)
now i’m gettin’ money, i don’t gotta pack a pistola (yuh, yuh, yuh)
okay, maybe (maybe)
’cause jealousy make a man go crazy (go crazy)
money make a motherf*cker hate me
one thousand b*tches, they all wanna date me
[verse 3: pwgood]
creamket_, nikok
wolting, pooshka
wlogys, ега
rilaveon, firecub_
duckdomestos, дремо
rilaveon номер 2
в этом куплете рифма говна
tarsier_philip_, timafrolov
сабы кончаются, но трек не готов
ну давай, давай, в чат спамь, нападай
petux_2, vassimal
эти ники кое*как срифмовал

[verse 6:duckboy ]
b*tch, i be that broke boy
two scripts half*full make a full script, mean i’m runnin’ out
b*tch, i be a ho toy, making two bad b*tches bashful
comin’ out they nutsh*ll, pass me the rag, fool
b*tch, i be that dope boy
smoke cash, ash snowin’ on the broke glass
throat slashed, now i got a blood*soaked rash
go bash in a f*ck boy’s skull, wearin’ no mask, toe tag
make the rope last, don’t ask
uh, al*all of my vices the devil
f*ck all this nice sh*t, i meddle in murderous temptation
roll up the windows and push down the pedal
burn a cigarette in my wrist, that 7th ward sh*t
f*ck a b*tch, then dip, no tint, gas tank on e
’64 impala at the bottom of a cliff, b*tch

[verse 7:lil’ uzi the anti*christ ]
n*gga down here on and you suckas mane
but don’t get crazy cuz you knows we keep the auto*mag
you pushing daisy’s never the false sh*t i spit the facts
’cause dog, i’m knowing i pull on ya b*tch i’m riding fat
that ho is going we the trillest of the trilly trill
you suckas muggin staying down about a milly mil
this ghetto thuggin’ got me paid, cowards running lipers
they say i’m flossin’ ho my name tasting like some sh*ter
went in your jaw and throw these bullets straight at’cha grill
commits to walking from the scenery i keeps it real
i do no talking just stupidity i let ya squeal
you get the squaking up in yo yard with the wood dog
38 barking see yo tounges and the root of evil
that’s in the bible dig and dirt there should be no sequel
thats to your title rumors leakin’ out like a faucet
stank like a burger with some onions or some hot gossip for that i murda

- ruby rougarou ruby da cherry pwgood lyrics

Random Song Lyrics :

Popular