World Series - Machine Gun Kelly

Kells

Who the fuck wanna wit um

We ball like Indians at the World Series 8th inning

I’m gone I’m rolling with Nicole Kidman

I hit the pussy like a bong, fuck show business

We in the jungle with the guerrillas

We in the streets with the 4 wheelers

Don’t speak I am no witness

You got beef put a end till you talk like long sentence period

Motherfucker I’m serious

Who’s you’re favorite rapper, I’m curious?

He ain’t living out them words

He ain’t used machine gun burst in the trap cause his ass got murked

I’m talking in the 3rd

I’m talking to a stealer and he ain’t from the burgh

You talking to a Cleveland motherfucker in the first

So you better not get on my nerves, biatch

I need herb tho, keep me moving like turtle

Keep me seeing this purple

Keep it banging like Kirko

Work something, Twerk something

Bitch fuck me now she worth something

Gas tank on E, it worth nothing

Try to stunt on me the worst coming

Motherfuckers gonna need some plumbing I am the shit

I feel like eating something, feed my stomach,

give me a rapper, make it 100, fuck give em the hubble telescope,

they couldn’t see the younging

No, fuck it let em get a lil something, bring em to the block do a lil stuntin,

that ain’t nothing

Ery where I go I’m putting on I ain’t bluffing, Ery where I go I’m putting on,

Bitch I run it.

Kells

This song got a motherfucker feeling like pac tho, (thug life)

Picture me rolling

This song got a motherfucker feeling like pac tho, (thug life)

Picture me rolling

Picture me rich

Picture everybody wit a pic of me hangin on the wall like prince

Picture your favorite R&B singer lookin at a picture on her phone Of my big Ol

dick

Picture me living like Biggie, the real Frank White I’m the king of my city

Picture all this starting out as a dream, staring at a picture of Martin Luther

King, that’s my reaction

Trying to make it happen from rapping.

Trying to avoid me a casket Half of my

kin-folk caught up in traffic from trapping

My whole squad will turn to a fraction cause Tony Montana rite up the block

from us tho, it’s hard not to get caught up in its at all

Hard not to ball.

Sales for yayo to jail then someone goes talk to the law

Please God tell me it ain’t true, tell me name on that paper work ain’t you

If you ain’t snitching then why is you home,

stupid decision bitch better get gone, 3 in the morning,

I can’t get rest so turn over pick up that 38 special,

you bust in my door, then I bust in your neck hoe 25 stranded on death row

This song got a motherfucker feeling like pac tho, (thug life)

Picture me rolling

This song got a motherfucker feeling like pac tho, (thug life)

Picture me rolling