Heymylan – rave Lyrics

rave – Heymylan Lyrics

Nigga said he really getting paid, nigga, you a bot

Bitch said she really love me, you just love this cock

Nigga tried to call me broke, brodie, where yo' fuckin' guap?

Nigga said he slidin' for his man, he a dead opp

Don't ask what I'm sippin' on, brodie, this that one pop

Beat a nigga ass with my hands, bitch, I feel like Rock

Taking drugs to my fuckin' face, bitch, I feel like God

Tell this bitch suck on my dick, baby, don't stop

Beefin' with a lot of fuck niggas, brodie, shoot that chop'

Niggas crying about that bop bitch, boy, she a bop

She a bop, but I keep her 'round to give me top

Me and cuz off that— shh, it make our— hold on (Ayy, ayy)

Me and cuz off that one shit, it make our heart stop

Nigga said he gettin' to the pape', brodie, wherе yo' guap? (Ayy, ayy)

Freak bitch want the dick, talm 'bout "Wherе yo' cock?"

Sleepin' on a bitch couch, nigga, where the fuck your job?

Just like a water bottle, nigga, I'ma take your top (Yeah)

With the white guys and we smoking pot

Fuckin' opp hoes so I get the fuckin' drop

Fuckin' on this crackhead bitch, so we smokin' rocks

I get guap, yeah, a lot

Nigga, fuck twelve, doing donuts in the lot

I can't stop beating dick 'cause I— Wait, hold on

I can't stop beating my meat 'cause I do that shit a lot

Beat my meat nine to five, like a motherfuckin' job

Lost my voice in my show, I damn near can't even talk my shit

Dude think the drank he sippin' fire, but his pint hit

Crisped up the mics in the mosh, shit, I dropped Ricky

Brodie got a arsenal of weapons, should we hit lick?

Bullets connect to his skin and left him twisting like a Ripstik, bitch

Hundred round drum only got sixty 'cause I shot forty

Dude always lying 'bout the cup, he never sipped nothing

Suspenders on your jeans, you knowing damn well your fit dorky

Brodie still mixing in the trap, keep the wrists workin'