Lil Gnar and Lil Skies - Grave
(8)Nigga try us, we gon' put him in his grave
We gon' put him in his grave
Issa knife like 21, my mama raised a savage
Pull up in the 'Rari with the fye' like dragon
And we like the car tinted, fuck around, get tragic
What happenin'?
Someone call your mama, she gon' come collect your casket
Ooh, we gon' put 'em in his grave
Closed casket, no case
I'ma hide my face
My bullets shoot with pain
Tell her fall back, I need space
We ahead of them in this race
Gimme good top in the Range
Woah, did one-eighty up on the dash
I count it up like it's math
I ball hard like I'm Steve Nash, woah
I fucked your bitch, then gave her back
You hit her phone like, "Where you at?"
I got her creeping through your backdoor, ayy
I got VVS on my teeth
I'ma ride or die for my team
My diamonds shine in my lean
My coupe came with wings
You're a broke boy who fiends
I'ma take 'em out when I see 'em
You a hatin' nigga, why you breathin'?
Issa knife like 21, my mama raised a savage
Pull up in the 'Rari with the fye' like dragon
And we like the car tinted, fuck around, get tragic
What happenin'?
Someone call your mama, she gon' come collect your casket
Ooh, we gon' put 'em in his grave
Closed casket, no case
I'ma hide my face
My bullets shoot with pain
Tell her fall back, I need space
We ahead of them in this race
Gimme good top in the Range
Gnarly mentality
Put your lil' bitch on salary
Make her cut back on calories, ayy
Feel the rage, you can see it in my whole face
VV's shinin', and they looking like some sun rays
Slap a pussy nigga if he start talkin' crazy
Slap a lil' nigga if he start talkin' brazy
Collect the pain while I'm goin' through these changes
I got bands now, now I'm gettin' a lil' famous
Bust it open for me and I catch it all on camera
Don't even remember, think lil' mama name was Pamela
When I die, bury me a legend, all I really want
When I die, bury me a legend, all I really want
Issa knife like 21, my mama raised a savage
Pull up in the 'Rari with the fye' like dragon
And we like the car tinted, fuck around, get tragic
What happenin'?
Someone call your mama, she gon' come collect your casket
Ooh, we gon' put 'em in his grave
Closed casket, no case
I'ma hide my face
My bullets shoot with pain
Tell her fall back, I need space
We ahead of them in this race
Gimme good top in the Range
Written by:
Andrew Hogan, Bobby Wooten, Bryan Simmons, Caleb Sheppard, Eric Dan, Jordan Orvosh, Kimetrius Foose, Mac Sutphin, Michael Lohmeier
Publisher:
Lyrics © BMG Rights Management, CONCORD MUSIC PUBLISHING LLC, The Administration MP, Inc., Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Songtrust Ave, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
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