"HORNETS NEST" lyrics
(feat. YRS JEFE)
I'm fuckin' rabid, barkin' at you like a savage
I split your cabbage
Stuff your body in a mattress, that shit was practice
Call me shooters, we get active
Took off when he saw me, I ain't chase him, but the MAC did
I close your casket, preacher screamin' 'cause he Baptist
You a tragic lil' actress
Frontin' like you tough, but you was cryin' in the Lexus (They cryin' right there, shoot 'em)
Tote guns like we from Texas
But I'm from NYC, so come correct or get corrected (Baow, baow, baow, baow)
Bitch, get to steppin', I put ten bullets where his chest is (Boom, boom, boom)
I leave you breathless (You shot him in his chest, nigga?)
Kel-Tec full of hollows, ruler clip, I like to stretch it
And you get clapped in your face
Your shorty said I'm like a dyke 'cause I got straps on my waist (Yo')
I told her please don't hit my blunt 'cause that shit wax and it's laced (Grrrt)
I took a hit of Runtz Biscotti and now it's fucked up my taste (Boom, boom, boom)
I think the police right behind me and they tryin' to chase
I went to Wells Fargo and J.P. Morgan today
But yo', that's only 'cause they banned up at B.O.A
I took a flight down to Tahiti, damn, the beach too hot
The fiends don't stop, I swear they love it, need re-rock
I need my chop to keep me safe, I need my Glock
I need my pot (You still mixin'?)
I split your cabbage
Stuff your body in a mattress, that shit was practice
Call me shooters, we get active
Took off when he saw me, I ain't chase him, but the MAC did
I close your casket, preacher screamin' 'cause he Baptist
You a tragic lil' actress
Frontin' like you tough, but you was cryin' in the Lexus (They cryin' right there, shoot 'em)
Tote guns like we from Texas
But I'm from NYC, so come correct or get corrected (Baow, baow, baow, baow)
Bitch, get to steppin', I put ten bullets where his chest is (Boom, boom, boom)
I leave you breathless (You shot him in his chest, nigga?)
Kel-Tec full of hollows, ruler clip, I like to stretch it
And you get clapped in your face
Your shorty said I'm like a dyke 'cause I got straps on my waist (Yo')
I told her please don't hit my blunt 'cause that shit wax and it's laced (Grrrt)
I took a hit of Runtz Biscotti and now it's fucked up my taste (Boom, boom, boom)
I think the police right behind me and they tryin' to chase
I went to Wells Fargo and J.P. Morgan today
But yo', that's only 'cause they banned up at B.O.A
I took a flight down to Tahiti, damn, the beach too hot
The fiends don't stop, I swear they love it, need re-rock
I need my chop to keep me safe, I need my Glock
I need my pot (You still mixin'?)
