Mortifying lyrics

by

Andrew Peterson


Intro:

My son Jak, his future is so black, he has no ambition, he likes swimmin' and fishin', he simply drives me wild!

Verse 1: JakProgresso:

Yeah came here to do this sweet 16, f*ck it up, you know what I'm sayin' at duetings and sh*t (no doubt), talent shows, yo, (yo), you all gonna hate this slumber party massacre this sh*t is campy, crawlin' to dry land beach, acidics and speed, I'm with Sid and Nancy (word), some off my head for this, I'm bored and dead for it, I wrote this sh*t, real quick in the back of Ted Bundy's death warrant (yeaah), art donatin' in place of a spleen damage, I dropped the tabs in a juice orange, it's the speed tablets, up scorchin' in Hellfire, aura fryin', the scenе is mortifyin', horrors dyin', portals widen, in my crib on some Coraline sh*t, rob thе peanut, snatch the blue blanket off a lioness, I haven't told to my shrink, I've been offa psychics, kill torture bind kids, invade a home, fall sleep and get caught excited, I'll make a corpse look alive, move its arms and talk behind it, smokin' mosh, crossin' hybrids, ultra risin', crushin' red sun inverted cross behind it, offer my sh*t, I offer kindness, yeah...

Verse 2: Dark Lo:

Eat your kindness for weakness, I took him on the road then blew his brains on his sneakers (blaow!), they had Lo playin', then it blew out they speakers (it blow!), I was just sayin' the fast sweep, I hope it don't reach us (I hope!), you was stuck on the bleachers (haha!), I was in the field (I was!), I pray my brother make it home he on his third appeal (I pray!), I smack a smile off your face then ask you how it feel (punk n*gga!), stuff a AK and brick in a caddy grill (in the truck!), your wife is daddy's girl (she mine!), my robe is silk (look at me!), I'm zoned out bangin' Toadmilk, (inaudible: told to your folks) your name is dragged in filth (in the dirt!), draggin' fire when it come to bars I got it sealed (I got it!), he wanna rap beef I want him dead I got him killed (I want him!)

Verse 3: RJ Payne:

PAYNE, I catch bodies I don't spare suckas, n*gga the F-beam is Lil' Yachty hair color, I keep the stick, I'm African that's the spear chucker, bullets put the squeeze on a hater now that's the bear hugger, I don't even need to be, I let the heater speak, banana clip will split your pineapple that's Tahitian treat, grime 24 hours I ain't sleep for weeks, meet the beast, bullets ghost ride yo' whip, keep the sleak, I came to get busy them n*ggas wake up, I'mma leave here smilin' like Diddy after the breakup, Gilly is the king of my city but n*gga straight up, I'm a barber with the bars who starvin' to get a shape up huh?, when I tell you I'm a vet, it is not a lie, Biggie Smalls said it best somebody gotta die, I murdered the Top 10, then the Bottom 5, n*gga this is homicide that's my kinda job, PAYNE

Verse 4: Tristate:

I got my eye on the Fetty Wap like Dread from Belly, ock, you n*ggas nosy as a Neti Pot, Desi c*cked, semi-auto audio, audible swag run up your cardio, they got yo' people chasin' a bag, I let the MAC blast tear off your mask then hit the lab, mix the Remy in gun powder, murder the pen and pad, snort a line o' ether, shed light on yo' demonic features, they say the blade work nice, I slice the reaper like the beaker (uh), inhale thick smoke, the needle broke, unload the number 2 mag with evil quotes b*tch I'm icin' up, strapped with a few explosive devices, to Twitter bond your presi for his middle legs crisis. Hah

Verse 5: Benny the Butcher:

Yeah, the Butcher coming, n*gga! Yeah, look, we was snatchin' food from under bunks, all y'all n*ggas want is blunts, I just stuffed the trunk with a hundred months (ah), all my shooter guns is sparkin', they tell me be humble but, .30 in the glove compartment is what I call a number crunch (aie), is Glocks around my crib, I got boxes 'round my crib (n*gga), look like I just moved in (nah), I set up shop around my crib, they come and cop, the fiends might get stopped around my crib, got the heads up on a raid, I moved the block up out my crib (yeah), I had to grind hard then now I grind hard still, the difference is these rats clean they got the Pennzoil smell, I was a free man and couldn't get my mind off jail, institutionalized my laws and 'em iron bar cells huh, I strictly ride with hustlers, we smoke $50 Dutches, brought my team back a brick my b*tch Balenciaga runners uh (ah), had to watch these snitches, they'll trick me out my summer (ah), I'm eatin', that's why my line busy when she dial my number (uh), yeah, you know it's f*ck the feds huh, tell 'em to catch me (come get me!), El Plugger, they gon' think you lyin' if you tell 'em you met me, the Butcher, n*gga, Griselda, aie, by Fashion Rebels

Verse 6: Conway the Machine:

Yeah, I put a sh*t bag on you, the Fifth blast on you (boom boom boom!), for thinkin' that it wasn't gon' get bashed for you (you gettin' bashed, n*gga!), two to the back o' your head, I did that for you, you ain't feel nothin' when I pushed your sh*t back for you, put the powder in the pot, I'mma whip that oil (whip up), you can't cook, have somebody whip that back for you (whip that sh*t, boy), I just want a thousand birds and a b*tch that's loyal (uhuh), dope stashed in the wall so long the sh*t had spoiled, I don't ask for help, because the n*gga that helped you can't wait to tell everybody he did that for you (talk to 'em!), uh, I told you I'm one o' the best (cap), get pumped with the TEC, knockin' chunks out yo' flesh (boom boom boom!), yes, I'm from the hood where the yay sold, AK to the face, n*gga, the casket gotta stay closed (doot doot doot doot...), my n*gga Chest got out he still rockin' his state clothes, goin' to collect, if you owe him then you next, pus*y (boom boom boom!)
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