Låttexter
I could get a killshot running
But you might not love it
Run to the cops, no telling
But your head's still buzzing
Running in and out, give me five
When I pull up no one else has arrived
Flicking on the TV when you cry
We could chain my heals to your dirt bike
I could get a killshot running
But you might not love it
Run to the cops, no telling
But your head's still buzzing
Running in and out, give me five
When I pull up no one else has arrived
Flicking on the TV when you cry
We could chain my heals to your dirt bike
Yeah, drive over son and make him fuck your brains out
Fuck your brains out
Running down the pieces in the sand
Wondering if you're ever getting back
Wondering if they're ever getting home
Home, getting home
So running down the pieces in the sand
Wondering if you're ever getting back
Wondering if they're ever getting home
Home
So go
How you making love if you're her dad?
Nothing's evеr been here in the sand
Now I'm gеtting high, it's on the band
I could get a killshot running
Played with your food for the last three summers
Kicked off the roof tryna aim like gunners
Popped off a few on the hillside
Coughed up a rock in my throat so hard
Throwing up blood all over the yard
Running 'round shooting my guns, look, I'm over paid
Fuck it, girl, you can't be fucking saved
Now he fucking knows about it
I could get a killshot running
But you might not love it
Run to the cops, no telling
But your head's still buzzing
Running in and out, give me five
When I pull up no one else has arrived
Flicking on the TV when you cry
We could chain my heals to your dirt bike
Yeah, drive over son and make him fuck your brains out
Fuck your brains out
![Who Am I? [Explicit]](https://lastfm.freetls.fastly.net/i/u/300x300/fc4a765917ff3fc1f31d8493f198eeee.jpg)