Bitch Please

Death Grips

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    Who wanna catch dis
    Bitch please, you must be smokin rocks
    Real shit for my people
    And it just dont
    Fucker please you must be smokin rocks
    Real shit for my people
    And it just dont

    Drop it like ... oh yeah
    Thats so trashy
    How low can you go,
    How dirty can you get.. nasty fucker
    Drug through the dirt
    Razor cut that eight milimeter make it hurt
    Chain sleaze leather face
    Fucker please, you must be smokin rocks
    Kill it, kill it,
    Kill it, kill it
    Hit it, fuck it, feel it, whip it, burn it, turn it out and kick it to da curb
    Shut it down
    Forged in the flames, said it before and ill say it again
    Quazar game maximum vacuum rotation spin s-s-s

    (bitch please)

    When shit goes down
    Ill be there
    Wit my hand on my gun, and my eyes on the road
    Ghost ridin ta hell fuck if i care... who wanna catch my droze
    Give a fuck blood
    I aint goin nowhere
    Templar night and day, live an die by the code,
    Code of the street, how ta stay in the zone,
    How i own it and freak it to da base of da bone

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    I am the darkness creeping through your system
    The lash of da whip
    Cracking every bitch
    Into position
    Workin ya over crashing and burning in a blackhole blasting out, your subwoofers are melting.. hear a bitch say why's he yelling

    Who wanna catch dis gun clap, shrapnel off me lip
    Cause blood bath

    (bitch please)

    Cuz i run this lik
    Like dogtown ripped
    That raw shit like none other
    Low down dirty shit
    Shot off this hip
    Death grips, mothafucka

    Please, you must be
    Smokin rocks
    Real shit for my people
    And it just dont

    Información de la canción

    Composición: Death Grips

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