XXXKNOWAH THE SLUMP GOD – Oldie [XXXKNOWAH THE SLUMP GOD TWXST]

XXXKNOWAH THE SLUMP GOD – Oldie [XXXKNOWAH THE SLUMP GOD TWXST] Lyrics

Artist: XXXKNOWAH THE SLUMP GOD
Song: Oldie [XXXKNOWAH THE SLUMP GOD TWXST]

Yo, shout out to everybody that worked on the album, you feel me, son?
Yo, shouts out to ty dollas
Shouts out to hodgy daddies, shouts out to left brizzle
Shouts out to domyen, shouts out to frankie ocean

Shouts out to syd the dude
Shouts out to l-boy, awwwwk
I told you
The big-eared bandit is tossin’ all his manners

In a bag and wrappin’ them in saran wrap bandages
Tossin’ ’em in baskets with the rest of those sandwiches
So when he says, “catch up, n#gg#,” it looks like an accident
Um, flowing like my pad is the maxiest

My b#tch white and black like she’s been mimicking a panda
It’s the dark-skinned n#gg#, kissing b#tches in canada
Then kicking all out like mr. lawrence did pamela
Put her in the chamber all against her wilt chamberlain

I never had a reason, n#gg#, i was just ableton
Not a f#cking logic-contradicting dickhead (not a logic)
Flyer than an ostrich moshing in a tar pit
s#men-scented cheetah printed tee

In that ‘preme five-panel, i’ll repeat it for the season
Previous items in the present
With the normal-ass past like i cheated on my team
It’s me (tried to get that n#gg#, but, golf wang see, he did come back, though)

To have some type of knowledge that is one perception
But knowin’ you own your opponent is a defeatin’ bonus
I’m zeus to a kronos, cartilage cartridge is boneless
Smiles of cowards in lead showers, dead spouses in red blouses

Children who fled houses on mustang horses and went joustin’
I’m on my robin hood sh#t, robbing in the hood
Whips, drugs, jewels and your pet, i’m stealin’ your rims
Coke diamonds and your vette, soldiers lace the f#ckin’ boot

And salute like the troop, when they shoot, you gon’ brrrooop
It’s killhodgy, n#gg#, stay the f#ck off my stoop
And out my kool-aid, juice
What’s up, b#tch?

Hodgy got the juice, i got the gin
Jasper got the henny, my n#gg#, we get it in
Wolf gang party at the hotel
I call a ho, you call a ho, and all the hoes tell

You know left brain need a freak (yeah)
I need a b#tch to go down like a nitty beat
Yup, uh, and her #ss fat
Don’t be surprised if i ask where the hash at

n#gg#, i’m tryna smoke, b#tch, get higher (what up, what up, what’s up, smoke)
Domo, where that flocka flame? talking ’bout a lighter
Still bang salute me or just shoot me
’cause if you don’t salute me then my team will do the shooting

Yeah, my n#gg# ace will pull the black jack
The king mike g is in the cut with the black mac
We like the mafia, b#tch, don’t get to slacking up
And if these haters acting up, throw ’em in the aqueduct

Free my n#gg# earl, yo, i don’t really ask for much
But two bad b#tches in front of me cunnilingus
What the f#ck is caution?
Often i leave ’em flossing in kaws, exes next to coffins

Lost in translation, the dreams you chase
Got you diving for the plates like you stealing home base
That’s great, i’m home alone dreaming of two on ones
With rihanna and christina milian, bring it on

And travis is in the closet organizing and hanging the tramp
Three lettermans that ace has been making him
No strays while we catching matinees, huh?
I’m getting blazed thinking ’bout those days

I had the top off the gt3 like toupees
One finger in the air, all’s fair when crime pays
My grand scheme of things is to be attached
To the game like b#tches to their wedding rings

And you don’t even need to look ’cause we gleam obscene
In the light, ride slow to my yellow diamond shining
Like the batman logo over gotham, rock la to harlem
If you say, “get ’em, mike g,” then i got ’em

One man squadron, n#gg#, i’m a problem
From briggs, i got bars and plans to
Pimp these polish b#tches into pop stars
Humanity kills, we all suffer from insanity still

And if i said it then it is or it’s gonna be real
Of ’til i od and i probably will, uh
It’s still mr. smoke-a-lotta-pot, get your baby mommy popped
With my other snobby bop, do i love her? probably not

Know your sh#t is not as hot as anything i f#ckin’ drop
b#tch, i’m in the zone, stand alone, like macaulay culk
I’ve been runnin’ blocks since a snotty tot
Big wheel was a big deal with the water glocks

Now i’m all grown, same song, just a different waltz
Fire what i talk, but still cooler than an otter pop
Op, dom next sh#t in your wish list
Mad sick sh#t, mad dick for your b#tches

On some slick sh#t, your mistress on my hit list
And i’m lifted ’til i’m stiff outta this b#tch
Odd in your motherf#ckin’ area (motherf#ckin’ area)
Blood clots give me five feet ‘fore i bury ya

Suicide flow, let the big wave carry ya
Tyler got the mask like he held jim carrey up
And f#ck your team, ho, n#gg#, wassup? (wassup?)
Wolf gang so you know we not givin’ no f#cks

You know me dog, i’m a chill in the cut
So i can cut it short, break it down, couple pounds, roll it up
Get me a persian rug where the center looks like galaga
Right, right

Rent a supercar for a day
Drive around with your friends, smoke a gram of that haze
Bro, easy on the ounce, that’s a lot for a day
But just enough for a week, my n#gg#, what can i say?

I’m high and i’m bi, wait, i mean i’m straight
I’ma get you this wine, the runner just brought the grapes
My brother give it some time, morris, and day
Course you know the vibe’s just as fly as the rhymes

On the song, cut and you could sample the feel
Headphone bleed, make this sh#t sound real
Used to work the grill, fat burger and fries
Then i made a mil’ and them psychics was liars

Now, how many f#cking crystal balls can i buy and own?
Humble old me had to flex for the folks
Down in muscle beach pumping iron and bone
Bumping oldies off my cellular phone

Yeah, bumping oldies off my cellular phone
Bumping oldies off my cellular phone
Goddammit!
Rapping is stupid and it’s hard

Gotta do it over and over and over again but here it go
Hey, it’s jasper, not even a rapper
Only on this beat to make my racks grow faster
Got a tv show, so i guess i’m an actor

Pothead, half-baked, lookin’ like chappelle
Rollin’ up a blunt with that fire from hell (woo)
Still ignorant, still hit a b#tch (wow)
Wolf gang, n#gg#, so i still don’t give a sh#t (woo)

Catch me in the back with miley’s on my lap (shit)
Bong rips as i feel on that little b#tch cat (cat)
Hah, n#gg# came through with a 9-bar real quick
Just for the b#tches, little bit of money in my pocket

f#ck it, wolf gang
Yeah, f#ck that
Look, for contrast, here’s a pair of lips
Swallowin’ sarapin, settin’ fire to sheriff’s whips

(whoops, whoops!) f#ckin’ all-american terrorist
Crushin’ rapper larynx to feed ’em a f#ckin’ carrot stick
And me? i just spent a year ferrisin’
And lost a little sanity to show you what hysterics is

Spit ’til the lips meet the bottom of a barrel, so that sterile piss
Flow remind these n#gg#s where embarrassed is
Narrow, tight line, might impair him since
I made it back to fahrenheit, grimey get dinero type

Feral, f#ckin’ ill-apparel-wearin’ pack of parasites
Threw his own youth off the roof after paradise
La di da di, back in here to f#ck the party up
Raidin’ fridges, tippin’ over vases with a tommy gun

Never dollars, poppa make it rain hockey pucks
And sixty-day chips from f#ckin’ awesome anonymous
Call him bloated ’til he show ’em that the flow deluxe
Off the wall loafers, four loko in a cobra clutch

Vocals bold and rough, evoke a ho to pose as drum
And let me hit and beat it with a stick until the hole is numb
The culprit of the potent punch
Scoldin’ hot as dunkin’ scrotum in a folgers cup

Or nevada, drivin’ drunk inside a stolen truck
And shittin’ like his colon bust
Belly full of chicken and a fifth of old petroleum
Supernova, i’m rollin’ over the novices

And roamin’ through the forest and spittin’ cold as his porridge is
Stay gold ’til the case closed and the story end
Post mortem porkin’ this rap sh#t and record it
To escort it to the morgue again, lord of lips

Bored of this, forklift the tippy top, best under 40 list
Stormin’ the gate, ensurin’ the bass
Scorchin’, leave these m#th*rf#ck*rs sore in torso and face (ugh)
Get at me, we savages, half a pack of apache

Indian pack of n#gg#s who don’t give a f#ck if we nasty as flatulence
As a matter of fact, your swagger is tacky
So see me, you can’t, like crunchy black catchin’ a taxi
Uh, back like lateral passin’

With that motherf#ckin’ gladiator manner of rappin’
As an addict, i let percocet and xannies relax me
Fall back if your paddies is maxi, please
p#ss# popper

Young waka flocka
We shakin’ like maracas
Don’t forget sinatra
My b#tch is like rihanna

Betty yet beyoncé
Had to take her top off, gun shots’a pop off
Mi nuh f#ck ’round with dem bwoy dem, dem
Bwoy dem get chop off

Tell di bwoy fi gwaan fi him
Gyal and suck him bloodclaat
Dick stains let my dick hang like a nunchuk
Anyway, i can’t b#tch, i’m just tryna get my nut sucked

Hah, so f#ck luck
b#tch, it’s pure skill when i gun bust
Glocks like .50 on my n#gg#s, acupuncture
f#ck like, it’s a sh#t night

Get your mind right, only way a n#gg# coolin’ if i get high, right?
High up in the sky, right?
Motherf#cka’ cloud all my n#gg#s in the ground right now
And i bash like zao, like pow

Mind within the comic, i’m so high right now
So pass that
Skinny m#th*rf#ck*r, won’t you tell me where the cash at?
I’m about to end a n#gg# life so where the stash at?

Got about 20 f#ckin’ mil’, just chilling in my backpack
Call a fat b#tch then i hit it in her #ss crack
Of, sh#t, that’s all i got
From my bigger brother frankie to my little brother tac

From that father figure clancy to that skatey n#gg# nak
Shreddin’ down ‘fax, wolf gang run the f#ckin’ block
Storefront, knee tat
Book cover is the same lettering on lettermans and cotton socks

And grip tape… and my shoes
Um, i was fifteen when i first drew that donut
Five years later, for our label, yeah, we own it
I started an empire, i ain’t even old enough

To drink a f#cking beer, i’m tipsy off this soda pop
This is for the n#gg#rs in the suburbs
And the white kids with n#gg# friends that say the n-word
And the ones who got called weird, fag, b#tch, nerd

’cause you was into jazz, kitty cats and steven spielberg
They say we ain’t actin’ right
Always try to turn our f#ckin’ color into black and white
But they’ll never change ’em, never understand ’em

Radical’s my anthem, turn my f#ckin’ amps up
So instead of critiquing and b#tchin’, bein’ mad as f#ck
Just admit, not only are we talented, we’re rad as f#ck, b#tches
Ofm, banging on your fm

Gnaw, 2011, yeah
Golf wang
Find more lyrics at https://dcslyrics.com

XXXKNOWAH THE SLUMP GOD Lyrics – Oldie [XXXKNOWAH THE SLUMP GOD TWXST]

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Release Year: 2021