[YUNG CHRIST]
Thirty golds up in my mouth, but they don't fit my teeth no
more
Nose ring up in my snout, guess I ain't too street no more
All you rap about is death, everything is so depressed
How you gonna get some press? How you gonna come up next?
But I could give a fuck about a check
I'd rather go and cut my neck
Put a bullet up in my vest, put a knife up in my chest
And do some drugs, let people gossip
Under my tongue, yeah, that's suboxone
Oxycontin, bitch, I'm toxic
Dirty cracker, bitch, I'm rotten
Top to bottom, $uicide, G, to the 5, to the 9
Yung Christ, $lick $loth
Rising out that slime, killers with minds, lo-fi Columbine
Kill them all with time, kill them all with time
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
[JAMES $PLEEN]
Too fire to hit the blunt, might pack it up and head out
the front
Sayonara sucker
This ain't a gun to my head—it's a brain hugger
Painting the ceiling with little pieces
Killing myself, I don't really need a reason
Death is the reason that I'm breathing
Yeah, I'm beating my heart, but my heart doesn't stop
beating
Guess I'm the dead motherfucker
Call me James $pleen, I'm that dead motherfucker
Dead pimp, pimping dead ass hoes
Tangled clothes, rotten ass bodies at my show
Close the door and throw me in the hole, here come the
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