Grand Ma-Ma burgundy red
Sittin on 22" chromes
Blackened the windows so you cannot
See what's goin on 12s in the trunk and they
Makin the block bump
The Schema da posse make
Even the softest kids
Wanna shoot sum Floridian blood
But I'm a alien
Alienated from the clicks and the klans
Even tho they dead ain't comin back
So f*ck what you rep and you rap
Ain't nothing that you do slap
I roll up a dutchie cause I don't
F*ck with the woods in the back
See I been rollin' up and
Smokin' and sippin' every thang
And I ain't even gon' pretend that
It's for easing the pain
Cause I got so you used to pain
That I can't even feel a thang
Walkin in the middle of the interstate
Not a thought in my brain
Rollin up on my block while I'm
Coppin some head on the road
Eleven mph in a thirty mile an hour zone
Don't pick up the phone no matter
Who it be they can hold
I'm makin up for suicidal
Thoughts in my bedroom
You aspire to be an occultist
I aspire to fly together we can accomplish
Nothin' but homicide
Take a ride in the donk and don't
Ask no question of where we go
My trunk holding more then 12s
That's all that you need to know
My trunk holding more then 12s
That's all that you need to know
Yuh, for the little bit of
Y'all that don't know me
I'm mister getting busy, from city
And why Miami? Everybody wit me
F*ck with me, get slapped to the curb
That's busy living stickin' out of prison
But my homies don't live
Love to kill, lay em on I95
Said it about a thousand times
But y'all don't get it, never giving credit
Cause you think you headed
Straight to the top but you not
Now take your spot to the back of the line
And you will get popped
Whether you my boy or not in they pops
Cause I'll be damned if I go to bed again
Hungry with no money, shit ain't funny
So bummed
Homie gotta do something, take my emotions
And dump them all on the track
And now mix them up with a couple dutches
Spit em up and take out the
Guts and he got that
Me, I just took the tabs
Now catch me in happy land
Okay, now I'm good on that
ND Double 20, that shit got me feeling funny
That's what you get with no money
I gon you with one, but I only wanna flow
Just give me a pen, and let's go
Let's turn these emcees to hoes
Ain't got no dough, but I steal the show
Ghostemane - South Pole Ain't Comin Back Lyrics
Ghostemane - South Pole Ain't Comin Back Lyrics
We currently do not have these lyrics.
If you would like to submit them, please use the form below.
We currently do not have these lyrics.
If you would like to submit them, please use the form below.
Grand Ma-Ma burgundy red
Sittin on 22" chromes
Blackened the windows so you cannot
See what's goin on 12s in the trunk and they
Makin the block bump
The Schema da posse make
Even the softest kids
Wanna shoot sum Floridian blood
But I'm a alien
Alienated from the clicks and the klans
Even tho they dead ain't comin back
So f*ck what you rep and you rap
Ain't nothing that you do slap
I roll up a dutchie cause I don't
F*ck with the woods in the back
See I been rollin' up and
Smokin' and sippin' every thang
And I ain't even gon' pretend that
It's for easing the pain
Cause I got so you used to pain
That I can't even feel a thang
Walkin in the middle of the interstate
Not a thought in my brain
Rollin up on my block while I'm
Coppin some head on the road
Eleven mph in a thirty mile an hour zone
Don't pick up the phone no matter
Who it be they can hold
I'm makin up for suicidal
Thoughts in my bedroom
You aspire to be an occultist
I aspire to fly together we can accomplish
Nothin' but homicide
Take a ride in the donk and don't
Ask no question of where we go
My trunk holding more then 12s
That's all that you need to know
My trunk holding more then 12s
That's all that you need to know
Yuh, for the little bit of
Y'all that don't know me
I'm mister getting busy, from city
And why Miami? Everybody wit me
F*ck with me, get slapped to the curb
That's busy living stickin' out of prison
But my homies don't live
Love to kill, lay em on I95
Said it about a thousand times
But y'all don't get it, never giving credit
Cause you think you headed
Straight to the top but you not
Now take your spot to the back of the line
And you will get popped
Whether you my boy or not in they pops
Cause I'll be damned if I go to bed again
Hungry with no money, shit ain't funny
So bummed
Homie gotta do something, take my emotions
And dump them all on the track
And now mix them up with a couple dutches
Spit em up and take out the
Guts and he got that
Me, I just took the tabs
Now catch me in happy land
Okay, now I'm good on that
ND Double 20, that shit got me feeling funny
That's what you get with no money
I gon you with one, but I only wanna flow
Just give me a pen, and let's go
Let's turn these emcees to hoes
Ain't got no dough, but I steal the show
Sittin on 22" chromes
Blackened the windows so you cannot
See what's goin on 12s in the trunk and they
Makin the block bump
The Schema da posse make
Even the softest kids
Wanna shoot sum Floridian blood
But I'm a alien
Alienated from the clicks and the klans
Even tho they dead ain't comin back
So f*ck what you rep and you rap
Ain't nothing that you do slap
I roll up a dutchie cause I don't
F*ck with the woods in the back
See I been rollin' up and
Smokin' and sippin' every thang
And I ain't even gon' pretend that
It's for easing the pain
Cause I got so you used to pain
That I can't even feel a thang
Walkin in the middle of the interstate
Not a thought in my brain
Rollin up on my block while I'm
Coppin some head on the road
Eleven mph in a thirty mile an hour zone
Don't pick up the phone no matter
Who it be they can hold
I'm makin up for suicidal
Thoughts in my bedroom
You aspire to be an occultist
I aspire to fly together we can accomplish
Nothin' but homicide
Take a ride in the donk and don't
Ask no question of where we go
My trunk holding more then 12s
That's all that you need to know
My trunk holding more then 12s
That's all that you need to know
Yuh, for the little bit of
Y'all that don't know me
I'm mister getting busy, from city
And why Miami? Everybody wit me
F*ck with me, get slapped to the curb
That's busy living stickin' out of prison
But my homies don't live
Love to kill, lay em on I95
Said it about a thousand times
But y'all don't get it, never giving credit
Cause you think you headed
Straight to the top but you not
Now take your spot to the back of the line
And you will get popped
Whether you my boy or not in they pops
Cause I'll be damned if I go to bed again
Hungry with no money, shit ain't funny
So bummed
Homie gotta do something, take my emotions
And dump them all on the track
And now mix them up with a couple dutches
Spit em up and take out the
Guts and he got that
Me, I just took the tabs
Now catch me in happy land
Okay, now I'm good on that
ND Double 20, that shit got me feeling funny
That's what you get with no money
I gon you with one, but I only wanna flow
Just give me a pen, and let's go
Let's turn these emcees to hoes
Ain't got no dough, but I steal the show
Writer: ERIC WHITNEY
Copyright: Lyrics © Wixen Music Publishing, Third Side Music Inc.
Copyright: Lyrics © Wixen Music Publishing, Third Side Music Inc.