Buakaw Lyrics - City Morgue

Yung Germ
What? What? What? What?
What? What? What? What?
What? What? What? What?
What? What? What? What? (Okay)

Run like the bi**h you are
You the type to always need a gun, like the bi**h you are
You the type to be my f**kin’ son, like the bi**h you are
Ni**as actin’ hard but never swung, like the bi**h you are
You are just a bi**h, you are (Okay)

I created your whole life, you better call me “Papa” (Okay)
Too bad you be gettin’ sneakers off of Alibaba (Wassup?)
I be in your bi**hes room doin’ the helicopter (Huh?)
I don’t understand you, I’m hearin’ radda-radda (Haha)
Ayy, I’m the clean up kid, now tell me where the messes is (Okay)
And when I arrive, I’m arriving violent (Okay)
Got the five percent tints on the JDM (What?)
Right hand drive on the whip, you’ll get strangled in
Makin’ blood chokes (Hey), like a noose rope (Hey)
Throwin’ elbows (What?), like the Thai folk (What?)
I’m makin’ blood chokes (Hey), like a noose rope (Hey)
Faking high, I’m goin’ low, you in a toe hold (Okay)

Run like the bi**h you are
You the type to always need a gun, like the bi**h you are

You the type to be my f**kin’ son, like the bi**h you are
Ni**as actin’ hard but never swung, like the bi**h you are
You are just a bi**h, you are (Sleezy)

Who told you dye your hair and get all those face tats? (f**k outta here)
All of my ideas, ni**as try to take that (Rat)
My shooter got five years, he ain’t even say jack (No no)
Bi**h, this is my year, you could get your face cracked (Boom)
Just like a bi**h you are (f**k outta here), cryin’ ’bout a bi**h, ni**a (Sleezy)
She gon’ suck my dick tomorrow (Sleezy), I just f**ked your bi**h, ni**a (Sleezy)
I just sold a brick of hard (Work), I just got my big AR (Boom)
Turn your face to mashed potato, who told you lil bi**h you hard? (Boom-boom-boom-boom)
This the KLEAN UP KREW (Boom), tell me what the f**k it do? (Sleezy)
If I don’t got my gun, bet you run, well, we got two (f**k outta here)
This the KLEAN UP KREW (Boom), call me Mr. Twenty-two (Sleezy)
Take the clip out, right before a ni**a gun butt you (Doo-doo-doo-doo)

Run like the bi**h you are
You the type to always need a gun, like the bi**h you are
You the type to be my f**kin’ son, like the bi**h you are
Ni**as actin’ hard but never swung, like the bi**h you are
You are just a bi**h, you are (Okay)
Run like the bi**h you are
You the type to always need a gun, like the bi**h you are
You the type to be my f**kin’ son, like the bi**h you are
Ni**as actin’ hard but never swung, like the bi**h you are
You are just a bi**h, you are