Bawal Clan - Body Bags

[Ankthen Brown:]
Yung nigga cud die
Devils ain't a li-iiiiiiiiiie
Louis round my waist
Hand up on da ni-iiiiiiine
Is you down to ride
Is you down to ri-iiiiiiide
Yung nigga cud die
Devils in da ni-iiiiiiight

[Lex Luthoor:]
Beamed up and I'm down to ride
Mobbing with the gang that's bonafide
Got the devil in my eyes that's fortified
Got 4? O 5? Heaters get you mortified
Get you body bags, tombstone and a casket
Chop him down, put his head in a basket
Burn him down till his pulse turn static
Bring it back do it all again you bastard!
You an asset, get your ass kicked! Massive!
Talk that Talk! Why you tryna act Passive?
Walk that walk! That shit automatic!
Candy flip, got a little bit of acid
Like an addict, in the attic, never panic
When it's drastic, eyes satanic
From another planet. Where the plant hit!
I ain't with that talk shit, nigga fuck a rhetoric!

[Mic Rahman:]
Is you down for the long haul?
Turn around and we long gone
Goin rounds like we on call
Move around like we on one
In da vicinity I know you feel it
80 decibel I know you hear it
Fuck around and you gon get it!
Fuck around and you gon get it!
Fuck you, make you wanna quit it
Chump foo snitchin on em pigs
Got blood from a line of kings
Out here making more than trends Dumb bitch got me vexed, though
Spillin all dat Henny on my Uratex, hoe
Gotem throwin out signs on set
Steppin outta line, on brip

[Ankhten Brown:]
Louis round my waste
Hand up on da niiiiiine

Devils in my brain
Can't waste no more tiiiiime

Is you down to ride
Is you down to riiiiiiide

I've made up my mind
Can't take no more liiiiies

Sick of this bullshit. stressinWorkin' hard, bitch im flexin
In my mind, lethal weapons
It don't kill me, it strengthens

Yung nigga been flyin
Heavens in my eyyyyeeees

Yung nigga cud die
Hell up on my liiiiiiiiiiine

[Rjay Ty:]
Who got the juice?! (Yuh)
I'm sipping, I'm sipping, ain't slipping but I'm getting loose (Yuh)
My vision is flickering, flickering sparking a fuse (Yuh)
The crew we be packing that fire tryna blow up the booth (Yuh)
Hand up on a nine and my finger be itching to shoot (Yuh)
Heard it through the grapevine
You just tryna fake shine
We ain't playing games nah
Sick up in the brain type
We just ain't the same kind
Told you we insane brah
We ain't here to waste time