Текст песни Cripple (feat. Blckbrd) - 3od

I been pulling all the dollars since i was a plug
Fresh 16 burnin down a bag by the midweek
Crunch time festivities
Meant chopping up a molly for the kids
I'm breaking bread, I'm like a king
Don't make me force feed all you dumb thieves
With my flair get your own thing
Biters like a zombie with your bones sticking out
Showing what is weak having doubt never standing out

Crucify
Hang em out to dry with their hands tied
Wouldn't wanna die with a sad cry
Wouldn't wanna die with my hands dry
Hate me cuz I love the money
Funny that the figures hitting high notes
We ain't even try though I know
Rolling round the town with a 3OD tote bag
With the Crows Dotti tell em how it goes

Crow with Three or die
I almost did from three ODs
Every rapper that ask advice I tell em three important things
Bigger numbers ain't gon' fix you
Trust the corvids in your dreams, and your homies ain't your homies less they prove it on The weekly
Shotgun up out the closet grip the grip like it's the Yamata
Dropping the expectation, ain't the shit you thought you wanted huh?
Chronic habits
Talking about the Soju I'mma vomit up
Chase the shot with Roku
Hoping its better when I cough it up
Boo tomato tomato
They call me rude
Ain't No use
Brd the same mother fucka' that cooked your goose
Shorter fuse
Man you smooth brained
Thoughts could use some food
I fuckin' hate people, so why would I fuck with you?
World got a pistol at my feet
It shoot the ground and yell dance
I wanna go to fashion week but I'm too tired for France
I hold a hand out then pull it back like a government grant
Fell out the sky so fuckin hard my ankle broke on a branch
I been in line too long
I wanna beat a man with a stanchion goldfish span
Bitch you can't hold my attention
Keep the money in the wall like the bald Bryan Cranston
Not my fault you still appalled by shit you don't understand
I'll double the cash
Like I cloned Johnny
Mask got a hold on me
Lapped em
I can see it on the dash
I'm Dali
You're bold and brash
Running they lips like a mustache
Don't care to answer
Why'd you ask?
All this shit get taxing
Damn l'Il grab me the flask un

Twisting up the finger with my kinfolk
Pop another soul
Reaper coming out the cove
Warning warning warning
187 with that death flow
Salivating at the crows talons
Soaring to the next door
Just a few options are left on the table
The days are a mix of depression
Unstable
I press on for reasons unknown it's no wonder
I sit in this slumber somehow
Still delivering all the fevers
Tremor hard in the back with a broken heart
Rip my soul tag
Stash it in the fucking bag
Just a rebel to the drowned out
Hollowed out words of a world
Decayed on a level that I'm
Never with that mutha' fuckin' devil
Bringing out the evil
Whether heaven has a seat avail
I'm willing to sit back inhale
Living is a curse
Last time was the worst time
Rippers of the west side
We Three Or Die

I been living off the flesh of the beast
For some time
I'm a crow
Plucking out the eyes
Every time I die there's a reason
Heathen season has arrived
So tonight I'm alive
Blasting every mother fucker who denies
3OD
187
We will never compromise
Crippling the foes
Time for you to die
Fall asleep in the dirt
Now your kin left behind
Cold skin
Closed eyes
Not a soul will be surprised
Brain dead on my head
Got led in my weapon
The crows come to feast
While the fake still pretending
It's still BLANXX
Still fuckin' picky
Stuck with the crows
Now your death will come quickly