Death Grips
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Bitch Please

Death Grips


Who wanna catch dis
Bitch please, you must be smokin rocks
Real shit for my people
And it just dont
Fucker please you must be smokin rocks
Real shit for my people
And it just dont

Drop it like ... oh yeah
Thats so trashy
How low can you go,
How dirty can you get.. nasty fucker
Drug through the dirt
Razor cut that eight milimeter make it hurt
Chain sleaze leather face
Fucker please, you must be smokin rocks
Kill it, kill it,
Kill it, kill it
Hit it, fuck it, feel it, whip it,
burn it, turn it out and kick it to da curb
Shut it down
Forged in the flames, said it before and ill say it again
Quazar game maximum vacuum rotation spin s-s-s

(bitch please)

When shit goes down
Ill be there
Wit my hand on my gun, and my eyes on the road
Ghost ridin ta hell fuck if I care... who wanna catch my droze
Give a fuck blood
I aint goin nowhere
Templar night and day, live an die by the code,
Code of the street, how ta stay in the zone,
How I own it and freak it to da base of da bone

I am the darkness creeping through your system
The lash of da whip
Cracking every bitch
Into position
Workin ya over crashing and burning
in a blackhole blasting out, your subwoofers are melting..
Hear a bitch say why's he yelling

Who wanna catch dis gun clap, shrapnel off me lip
Cause blood bath

(bitch please)

Cuz I run this lik
Like dogtown ripped
That raw shit like none other
Low down dirty shit
Shot off this hip
Death grips, mothafucka

Please, you must be
Smokin rocks
Real shit for my people
And it just dont

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