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lirik lagu die today – saint sinna

[verse 1: grewsum]
no matter which label i decide to claim
at the end of the day i’m gon’ ride with saint
you can catch a backhand upside your face
p*wn that chain that we stole just to buy a case
and a sack cause i’m always off that weed and liquor
i don’t know what’s more f*cked up, me or my liver
i puke blood when i’m off that seagram’s
and rap tough when i’m off that weed son
it’s pr*ne records, bona fide home wreckers
so c*cky and i can’t even sell records
the internet makes everything free
shouldn’t even waste money tryna press a cd
i could blow it on a sack of green, promethazine with codeine
and mix it up and make that lean
i could even go mainstream and make that scene
but i would rather go back like a time machine, b*tch

[chorus: grewsum]
i can see it in they eyes, they got a problem with me
when i’ve been telling ’em forever they don’t want it with me
so i’m like f*ck what they doing, i’m above what they doing
if they touch saint or grew then they gon’ die today, yeah

[verse 2: saint sinna]
they say that hip*hop is dead, well i’m here to revive it
and backhand any bubble gum rapper who try to hide it
mission infect is the movement that got your girlie excited
talk sh*t, boy, you silent when we ultra*violent and rhyming
i’m a tower c*cked, aim and ready to blast it
in the video you choked, straight up wrapped up in plastic
i’m the definition of a motherf*cking instant classic
their the reason your mother’s p*ssy has got a blown head gasket
i’m fantastic with the wordplay, don’t care what you birds say
i’m an old*school rap cat that’s down to leave your herd sprayed
i wanna f*ck up all of you f*ggots in the worst way
mean full contact with your two green touching a nerve games
so, step up and get your face peeled back like a banana
that came in the last six years, yo, i ain’t been a fan of
all my flows so dope i should be locked up in the slammer
and your whole style sinks worse than gary, indiana motherf*cker
[chorus: grewsum]
i can see it in they eyes, they got a problem with me
when i’ve been telling ’em forever they don’t want it with me
so i’m like f*ck what they doing, i’m above what they doing
if they touch saint or grew then they gon’ die today, yeah

[verse 3: grewsum & saint sinna]
i don’t even waste ink in the pen no more
cause raps making sense ain’t a trend no more
their songs don’t even matter like nintendo scores
all they do is put out records and go on tour
it used to make me mad, now i play that game
force my records down your throat, make you say my name
i’m not tech n9ne but they say i’m strange
if you don’t believe the words that i say ask saint, yeah
a lyrical criminal quick to leave you flat on your back
sterile agent, my force wins like that of a gat
saint sinna drain the life out of your battery pack
grab you by your frame, swing and leave your cavity cracked
oh no, that b*st*rd is back, it’s worth the maidens yelling
or their ego is swelling so i put a hole in they melon
f*cking with my crew is definitely bad for you, i’m telling
cause combined we got a whole army of hood repeated felons, ugh

- saint sinna

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