Curse

Hey, check my resumé To Bass be the glory My dick go hard, ayy True facts, ayy ayy Check my clock, I can't stop Fuck around, make my 40 pop No Popcaan, I pop pistols Revenge my body, clothing no issue Makes you look sick, you need a tissue You drop a body, I just might bless you I'm at your section, no high cholesterol Where Jenny Craig? Bitch let's get s*xual Why the fuck I'd ever lie? p***y nigga bet that pistol part of your disguise I could see it in your eyes Runnin' from the reaper, fuck I'm not afraid to die Bitches creepin' on my line Got my main upset, these hos I fucked and left behind Need at least two at a time Moved to foreign, took it over, lost my fuckin' mind Instigatin's why I don't trust these bitches Two-faced and lame ass nigga Gangbang for fame fake hitta I ain't never seen squad wit' ya I don't need to save ya fuck the fake Cop myself an ounce and work the weight Seen the Babylon around the way Who the fuck they catchin'? Not today Ridin' 'round with sinners, flyin' on a nimbus Spot a nigga slippin', hold on, roll down the window Low-key schemin', leave his momma screamin' Curse these demons, lord, curse these demons Tic them with the fuckin' tac Hit 'em where it hurt, nigga make it work I'ma make her squirt, nigga I do dirt Nigga I'ma merc, put 'em in the earth Pay me for the verse, put 'em in a hearse Gotta finish first, I just did my first Protect me from my curse Bitch I put in work, spittin' with a curse Wouldn't be the first, how much is you worth? Sell you to a merch, I just wanna fuck I don't wanna flirt, why your feelings hurt? Cha cha slide, all in that p***y How you doin' love? Let's go make a movie Body lookin' good, when you dress in Gucci Love the chicken breast, bitin' on yo' booty Ridin' 'round with sinners, flyin' on a nimbus Spot a nigga slippin', hold on, roll down the window Low-key schemin', leave his momma screamin' Curse these demons, lord, curse these demons --- Curse - XXXTentacion, Kin$oul, Cooliecut and Bass Santana