paroles de chanson Simulacrum - Count Kush

Yo soul a simulacrum stone tablet hold the chapters
Got thrown out toss the batter goths' are badder
Stoner hoe golden look sexy smokin' doja
I got sticky icky in the roll up
Posin wit me Vicky got the bowl cut
I'm too sick he really 'bout to throw up
Pick me got me drippy with the ice buys nice prizes

I'm on islands, no Epstein
Never kill myself in a cell that's yo wet dream
Flow benzene, colorless gaseous
I'm leakin' don't test me, one spark and it pop
You and your bestie can't best me
Necropolis poppin' in the city where the dead be
Bro dead meat when I turn the grass into red leaf
Great gatsby with the strap gettin' nasty

Gettin' nasty, gettin' fucked up
Gettin' dough, that's on the bros
I got the pants with the pants holes
Run from the base to the boat
With the eighths and the O's
And a case of the cold ones
Uh, case of the cold ones
Got stow money ace in the hole
Bound my soul to phylactery
Never catch me lackin' G

Yo soul a simulacrum stone tablet hold the chapters
Got thrown out toss the batter goths' are badder
Stoner hoe golden look sexy smokin' doja
I got sticky icky in the roll up
Posin wit me Vicky got the bowl cut
I'm too sick he really 'bout to throw up
Pick me got me drippy with the ice buys nice prizes

I'm that pilot, too fly with it
Air with the flow I ride in it
I take the hoes to the bank
I smoke the O's then I drank
While I'm countin' the dank
And I'm countin' the kush in it
Drone strike opps George Bush with it
I burn bros with a click
I dig holes make a ditch
Sell yo soul you a bitch