SUICIDEBOYS - MY SCARS ARE LIKE EVIDENCE BEING MAILED TO THE JUDGE | Текст песни

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• MY SCARS ARE LIKE EVIDENCE BEING MAILED TO THE JUDGE

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[Verse 3: $witchblade $crim]

Enteral rest
The bloody mess
Keeping the motherfucking devil hot
Satanic mentality
Happily making the bodies drop
I'm on the block
Circling cops
Ready for their demise
Screams resinate through the night so I can't close my eyes
Hard to swallow when the hollows enter through your throat
Lately I wallow in my sorrow cause I cannot cope
The dope, the coke, the drank, the lean, the pills, the X, the smoke
The rope to choke the pain away
I'm broken till I croak

[Verse 4: Yung Snow]

Baby let me get the keys to the Rover truck
Baby let me get the weed
There's more for us
When these suckas leave, yeah we can smoke a blunt and fuck
I bust a nut and now it's time to get the fuck up out my crib
Yeah, here's a couple bucks
Bitch I'm Oddy Nuff
Creeping out the cut
Blood seeping out my cut with the shotty pump
You might escape the Tommy gun because I'm busy puffing blunts
But soon enough, you'll come back round
You screaming \"Lock me up! Please! Box me up!\"
I got you sucka
Start a flame and turn your body into dust
Smoke your body in the blunt
Copy us
I'll light it up


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