Lyrics

[Intro: Yung Christ] This a $crim beat Yung Christ, *59 DJ $crim with that 808 Work [Verse 1: Yung Christ & Yung Mutt] Crack up in my swisher (Woop), blowin' bitches kisses Syrup got me twisted (Rowdy), G*59, the misfits Swervin' and I'm fucked up, servin' time, I'm locked up Chopper sprayin', Mack truck (Bop, bop, bop) You live a life of bad luck All my hoes do drugs (Eeh), all my homies thugs (Woop) Bitches fucking scrubs (Yeah), explorer on some dubs (What?) This that flex on them with no mercy That text I get at one-thirty, yo' bitch beggin' to get fucked Leggings on, but I rip 'em up, just enough to slide up in All about them Benjamin's, dead presidents I'm heaven sent, you just a fuckboy, that's irrelevant (Grrah, Uh) Bow down to your sensei (Yung Mutt) You talking to a God boy (Yeah, yeah, yeah) [Bridge: Yung Mutt] G*59, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah [Verse 2: Yung Mutt] Swervin' past the Church in all black clothing Holding up a middle finger, MAC showing Throwing cash, hoes run and clash—get they back broken (Gimme that fucking money) Pop the cap open Throat soaking in some liquid potion, ocean motion Toasting to the stars, got a great view from Mars Spit a couple bars just to show it ain't hard (Bop, bop, bop) *59 ain't far from the start, all brain and heart Gotta play your part in the game, make sure you aim the dart [Verse 3: Bones] Fresh fruit by the platter, sipping water, hear it splatter Got ash on my shirt, but I'm me, so it never matter Fuck a job, stay at home, rolling bones till I'm gone Hair ties on my wrist, this the doped up ghost Laying in my bed, feeling dead now Money stashed in my pocket with the bands now I don't like rap 'cause they do it wrong I'm isolated 'cause I cannot take this shit no more Laying in my bed now, feeling kinda dead now Money stashed up in my pocket with the bands now I don't like rap 'cause they do it wrong I'm isolated 'cause I cannot take this shit no more (What? What? What? I cannot take this shit no more)