Killin' Spree (feat. CRIMEAPPLE)

Wanting money for a spree
You did something mad
Ooh
When you went out in the street (Uh)
Perhaps you felt quite bad, felt quite bad
Uh, felt bad, I did
I felt bad, I felt bad

Trappin' keys like a trapeze, minus the need for the balance beam
Still got to that fetty without the trap queen
No ads, I'll give your team half the magazine
Please, somebody call the fashion police
Clapped up your rental, shattered the window, broken glass in the street
It's a tragedy, his better half was in the passenger seat
My shooter got so many bodies, probably beat anybody
Hammer a thotty, fucked everybody, more bodies than Sammy and Gotti (What?)
But first, every homi' gotta be ran by me
For every dime served in lobby, murder and robbery (Bad, woo)
The streets was wild back then
Even T-Boz had a MAC-10
Never know who bangin', it'll be a rude awakening
When you naked tryna locate where your bracelet is (Where my shit at?)
My Jamaican bitch pass it to me like Jason Kidd
Babycakes, that's a great assist (Oof)
I just had to lay it in (Bad)
Lay it in for the win, maybe even bang it and break the rim (Bad, haha)
Went crazy in the gym (Crazy)
I told them niggas: Get down and lay down like JBM
Hopped in the grey BM' (Bad)
Don't throw the baby out with the piss (Bad)
It is what it is, when you MC light, then you paper thin (Bad)
Thin like a vape pen, slim as a inmate's chance to escape the pen
The triggers on the hammers is hairpin
Yeah, pimp, my Atlanta bitch suck the air out a blimp
That's a cherry on a banana split
Shit

Wanting money for a spree
You did something mad
When you went out in the street
Perhaps you felt quite bad, felt quite bad (I did)
Bad
Yeah, yeah (Bad)

When Marcberg dropped, I couldn't afford a modem (Bad)
Was disconnected at the moment
When I heard Reloaded, cheddar had started flowin' (Bad)
Got some Os of petroleum on the elbow, the scale broke
Almost got derailed when twelve felt close, I couldn't fail, though (Bad)
Then hell froze over, I flexed, I might neglect the Rover (Bad)
Pull up slower in somethin' white interior, Dinesh D'Souza (Oh my God)
Met the quota, I laid vocals that's compressed with coca' (Oh my God)
That's the focus, I could write a poem and finesse the POTUS (What?)
Check the motives, for a check, I don't respect the motions (No)
Had to shake my ex, now the organs in her chest is broken (Bad)
Grew up on Goya, now it's often oysters I'm enjoyin' (Bad)
Sure, I'm a goyim, but the lawyer I'm employin' readin' the Torah (Bad)
My silhouette and aura caught her, bet it wet her warrants up (Bad)
Shorty wanna link with some E, that's blue, that's Internet Explorer (Bad, ooh)
Hallelujah, gotta thank every connoisseur, I been through it (Bad)
Got it out the sewer, had to treat a booth like it was a tiny school bus (Bad)
Provocateur, pockets filled, all the twat velour (Bad)
Poppin' off, I'll stomp you wearin' silk like Tupac Shakur (Bad)

What? (Bad)
Bad
When—you're a writer, too, you've written some great songs
When-when-When you write, what comes first
Since you're a musician also, a great trumpet player
Does the music, music come first or the words?
No, I, ah, I usually put the music together
I put the music together, then the words come