Текст песни Going Out Bad - ZackTaylor

All my opps know they going out bad
Soon as they do things to mess up my bag
All my guys will keep it G that's word to Chad
Flew out a nest with wings and cities on my back
In a league of my own and my class
Hits are breeze when your hands are like brass
No Pekingese but they on the face flat
I grated cheese just to quesadill back, Zack talk to em

Threw these guys a bone but tried to bite me when I turn around
Now only time we interact, is to put them down
Ain't no point in tryna teach em when they all foaming at the mouth
They hound around me as I dog them like the pound
It gets rough but my jaw locks down on them bacon strip
Scraped the whip bending corners like I'm grade and paving it
Take a trip and step in sand that's inches from our latest crib
Hate the kid cuz I'm above their vision Micro blading shit
Pacing, like my charcoal mask no task in
Facing, any threat they think applies, or
Adjacent, to my journey bring a gurney
Or some sanction, cuz they will need it once I found out

All my opps know they going out bad
Soon as they do things to mess up my bag
All my guys will keep it G that's word to Chad
Flew out a nest with wings and cities on my back
In a league of my own and my class
Hits are breeze when your hands are like brass
No Pekingese but they on the face flat
I grated cheese just to quesadill back, Zack talk to em

Still great, a high percentage when they ask about my
Kill rate, you guys preventing every chance to show your field play
I tried to spoon feed some game but they
Still laid the last straw so I whip them like a milkshake
This MC has a flurry that'll crumble all
Y'all sweeter than the sugar drowning in a malt
I constituted hustle hard into a law
And it provided lower stressing at the top
And so far I've been dodged more than Mopar
Pull your card, and get scrapped like a tow yard
I go hard, even when they have a slow start
I know they'll feel it like it's sonar

All my opps know they going out bad
Soon as they do things to mess up my bag
All my guys will keep it G that's word to Chad
Flew out a nest with wings and cities on my back
In a league of my own and my class
Hits are breeze when your hands are like brass
No Pekingese but they on the face flat
I grated cheese just to quesadill back, Zack talk to em