Lyrics Killumbus - BigKayBeezy

On God
Tryna left some dead, gang, gang (ayy, boy Stxnk, you hard)
Tryna left some dead
(Timmy Da HitMan), uh, uh

Foenem ain't gon' leave your crib unless the jakes coming
All them guns on your IG, you better shake some
Five-five-six, seven-six-two, we tryna left some dead
Put that burner to his shit, unlock his dreads, yeah, yeah

Poppin' Percocets, I'm off the meds
Talking tough won't get you shit but dead
Like, fuck that, fuck what you said
I get way too out my body, out my head, yeah, yeah
Don't come tell me lil' folks with them feds like that ain't your mans
Told the opps come see about me, they scared
I sip codeine 'til I can't barely feel my legs (uh-uh)
They let him out and it's about time to drop that bread (brr, bow-bow)

Baby, don't get scared, this was all part of the plan
He seen we slid the door back on that van, he ran
Red dead, crack his egg (bitch) yeah, yeah
Let's see, he can't even run without no legs (come on)
Why the fuck he playing?
I pop one more Perc', I might go fed, yeah, yeah

Foenem ain't gon' leave your crib unless the jakes coming (yeah)
All them guns on your IG, you better shake some
Five-five-six, seven-six-two, we tryna left some dead
Put that burner to his shit, unlock his dreads, yeah, yeah (bow-bow-bow)
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Five-five-six, seven-six-two, we tryna left some dead
Put that burner to his shit, unlock his dreads, yeah, yeah

I'm off of a lot of drugs in this bitch
If he tweaking, I might get to bugging in this shit
Fuck is you mugging and shit? (Is you muggin'?)
Put a hole in your mouth and dip
I can't go out like 2
You know exactly where I live
But you ain't gon' shoot up the crib
'Cause Young Beezo get hit, you get killed

Nigga know what it is, ayy (y'know what it is)
House arrest, I still ran up a mill'
Ask me how do I feel, yeah, yeah
Blue come out all in the bills, yeah, bitch
And I ain't with none of that other shit (none of that other shit)
You can call me Killumbus when I hit your block
Niggas die every time I discover shit

Me and none of the guys on that funny shit
We get on dummy, that dummy shit (brr, bow-bow-bow)
Hundreds shots in your stomach, cut off the shit
And the opps in the crib, they (One-Punch Man?)
You better watch who you running with
Fifty shots out the Draco, stunning shit
Ain't your lil' homie dead?
I heard he got shot in the head
Don't get buried under him
And the streets made for me, who be running them, ayy

Foenem ain't gon' leave your crib unless the jakes coming
All them guns on your IG, you better shake some
Five-five-six, seven-six-two, we tryna left some dead
Put that burner to his shit, unlock his dreads, yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Five-five-six, seven-six-two, we tryna left some dead
Put that burner to his shit, unlock his dreads, yeah, yeah

Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah, uh
Five-five-six, seven-six-two, we tryna
Grrt, boaw-boaw-boaw