BLAZE YA DEAD HOMIE

BLAZE YA DEAD HOMIE - Mr. Dead Folx lyrics

rate me

No questions for you too ask, no gats for you to blast

No money, weed, no cash

It's time to get in that ass

Mr. Dead Folx, Colton Grundy Ya Dead Homie

Don't be acting like you don't see me

Believe me man you don't know me

I was the first to put it down

Reppin' with Twiztid and the clowns kicking the gangsta sounds

Strictly keep it underground

Lotus in the family, you now how we do

Coming for ours and won't hesitate to ride on you

Record sales don't make you bulletproof

Big time, and we both know you don't be doing that shit that's in your rhymes

You ain't a G like me, you ain't the thug I be

You watered down, like the punks I see on MTV

Where you're motherfucking trees, always asking for smoke

Ain't it a bitch, everybody a G when wearing Loc's

That's a figure of speech, and I be sick in the heat

Whoever think he the shit, trying to claim my territory

I'm a motherfucking G with heaters loaded and cocked

You's a small time pee-on, braggin of running rocks

Bitch break yourself, for everything and then some

Hold the mic to my dick, so you can hear me when I cum

No questions for you too ask, no gats for you to blast

No money, weed, no cash

It's time to get in that ass

Mr. Dead Folx, Colton Grundy Ya Dead Homie

Don't be acting like you don't see me

Believe me man you don't know me

Never ever was I a bitch hoe,

You can put that on my ten-fold

Ma pop Grundy and them know I sicko

Baby boy got banana clips for his chopper

Known to bring drama somethin' proper

Check nuts

Colton Grundy got handles, I got the J

So when I'm spiting from the big oh line, nuts' in your face

Dead homie on a ho-port, smoking a Newport

Spiting at the bitches, and bumping that new Too Short

Life is nothing I can even they to relate to, for real though

Being dead is serious, it change you

All I got left in this world, is my music to play

So you correct if you thinkin', that I'm a do my thang

And all the thugs that with me, throw your shit in the air

And wave those motherfuckers side to side

Like you don't care

And if you feeling like I'm feeling, then it's plainy clear

'Cause it's a whole bunch of dead folk chilling in here

No questions for you too ask, no gats for you to blast

No money, weed, no cash

It's time to get in that ass

Mr. Dead Folx, Colton Grundy Ya Dead Homie

Don't be acting like you don't see me

Believe me man you don't know me

It's me and Blaze, drunk driving in an 87 Cutlass

Taking turns at the wheel while the other claps motherfuckers

You're chick, I'm dicking that

Wicked shit, I'm kicking that

I'm hitting with the quickness, life's stinking, where the chickens at?

You made a wrong turn coming down my block

I'll stop your car like I need help, and crack your head with a rock

Uh, Colton Grundy the only homie I got,

Mr. Dead Folx sparking at the burial spot

We about to ride on the world, leave it deserted like Marz

Get your wig spilt, by 40 juggalo rap stars

A little kid asked me if I ever killed anybody (yes)

I told 'em that I did and was warm and bloody

I'm Violent J, I'll be around until my dieng day

On tour smoking bud, and eating Flying J

Look me up under 'Juggla' and you'll find my name

And if you don't, then you're dictionary's lame motherfucka!

No questions for you too ask, no gats for you to blast

No money, weed, no cash

It's time to get in that ass

Mr. Dead Folx, Colton Grundy Ya Dead Homie

Don't be acting like you don't see me

Believe me man you don't know me

Mr Dead Folx

Believe me man you don't know me

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