Letras
MATHIAS TYNER
Aye, yeah
Aye, aye, aye, aye, yeah, woah
Guns drawn, neck slit, bitch, I got a deathwish
Body bags get zipped, they testin' 'fore I stretch shit
My pockets progressive, your pockets depressive
Pull up with that [?]
Glock, nine, don't need no strap, we could fistfight
Body on the curb, make him flatline
Bitch I'm insane, I don't act nice
Red dot designate location, no conversation
Raging, [?]
Main bitch, she like to face dick until she braindead
Faceplant, I leave his face split up on the pavement