"PeterSteele" lyrics
What?
Back home in the grave
Whip a-
Whip a hearse
With the-
With the woodgrain
Ice cold nights
Match the white gold chain
My brain is a burden
And my mind is a maze
Lean wit it, rock wit it
Dash got a Glock in it
Mick Foley, pimpin'
Tell a bitch to put a sock in it
I ain't on the block wit it
I'm under the rocks wit it
Tombstone boy
Pinky ring got diamond rocks in it
Glisten
Give a fuck if you listen
Mike Klebold
Pistol 9 milli
Go the distance
BONES too consistent
Bones why you tripping
I ain't ceased to lend assistance
To delete ya out existence
Sitting in the shadow, my battle is on the inside
Me against myself, I'm willing to bet that it won't end right
What happened to that boy?
Bitch I'm stunting like my daddy glitching like some white noise
Young Peter Steele, dye it black, number one
'Nother hunnid tapes, after that I'll be done
You be in the club throwing up a lotta ones
I be in the mausoleum chilling, body numb
Skeletons in the backseat, weapons out the sunroof
Bitch I go retarded, squeeze the trigger like "What this gun do?"
You tell her to come through, I tell her to bounce out
I'm just tryna smoke and jump in the tub like it's Run's House
Back home in the grave
Whip a-
Whip a hearse
With the-
With the woodgrain
Ice cold nights
Match the white gold chain
My brain is a burden
And my mind is a maze
Lean wit it, rock wit it
Dash got a Glock in it
Mick Foley, pimpin'
Tell a bitch to put a sock in it
I ain't on the block wit it
I'm under the rocks wit it
Tombstone boy
Pinky ring got diamond rocks in it
Glisten
Give a fuck if you listen
Mike Klebold
Pistol 9 milli
Go the distance
BONES too consistent
Bones why you tripping
I ain't ceased to lend assistance
To delete ya out existence
Sitting in the shadow, my battle is on the inside
Me against myself, I'm willing to bet that it won't end right
What happened to that boy?
Bitch I'm stunting like my daddy glitching like some white noise
Young Peter Steele, dye it black, number one
'Nother hunnid tapes, after that I'll be done
You be in the club throwing up a lotta ones
I be in the mausoleum chilling, body numb
Skeletons in the backseat, weapons out the sunroof
Bitch I go retarded, squeeze the trigger like "What this gun do?"
You tell her to come through, I tell her to bounce out
I'm just tryna smoke and jump in the tub like it's Run's House
Writer(s): Elmo O Connor
