Dead Conversations by Grewsum
Dead Conversations lyrics
The Talk Shit Avenger Mixtape!
Imma rock star, mixed with the tellin of a rap star,
Feel no reason that I need to act hard
Pilin up the bodies in my back yard, that's raw
Killin everybody when I need to get money, and then I gut a motherfucker when I need to get nutty, it might be your buddy, we study everything that we bloody and suddenly when we dump the body in a puddle it's muddy
And then move, on to the next, blow like a C4 bomb in the flesh,
8 inch blade put it all in your neck, if I need a little help then I call up?
Yeah, and they'll be there in a minute to finish, diminish, an the little men hittin 'em, wiggin with a sickle, an sick 'em in the middle of the atom and slashin 'em with passion of a savage in the back of the mall
Imma kill anybody that contests, gotta new outfit baby all flesh,
Use a fuckin shin bone for an arm rest, imma grind through the day,
I'm in a calm rest
And they decease the beast for killin the weak, release when I'm feelin the beat, the veese that need to meet be drillin em deep with heat to keep the cheese with the feelins in me and then march!
They see me rollin, stolen whips and conversatin with the dead.
Lots of liqueur bottles, pop 'em, take 'em to the head
White T might need bleach to cover up the spots of red, that came up out your head, that came up out your -
They see me rollin, stolen whips and conversatin with the dead.
Lots of liqueur bottles, pop 'em, take 'em to the head
White T might need bleach to cover up the spots of red, that came up out your head, that came up out your head
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