Maple Syrup - $uicideboy$, BONES

This a $crim beat

Yung Christ, *59

DJ $crim with that 808

Work!

Crack up in my swisher (Woop), blowin' bitches kisses

Syrup got me twisted (Rowdy), G*59, the misfits

Swervin' and I'm fucked up, servin' time, I'm locked up

Chopper sprayin', Mack truck (bop, bop, bop)

You live a life of bad luck

All my hoes do drugs (Eeh)

All my homies thugs (Woop)

Bitches fucking scrubs (Yeah)

Explorer on some dubs (What?)

This that flex on them with no mercy

That text I get at one-thirty, yo bitch beggin' to get fucked

Leggings on, but I rip 'em up, just enough to slide up in

All about them Benjamin's, dead presidents

I'm heaven sent, you just a fuckboy, that's irrelevant (Grah)

Bow down to your sensei (Yung Mutt—)

You talking to a God boy

Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah

G*59, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah

Swervin' past the Church in all black clothing

Holding up a middle finger, MAC showing

Throwing cash, hoes run and clash—get they back broken

(Gimme that fucking money)

Pop the cap open

Throat soaking in some liquid potion, ocean motion

Toasting to the stars, got a great view from Mars

Spit a couple bars just to show it ain't hard (Bop, bop, bop)

*59 ain't far from the start, all brain and heart

Gotta play your part in the game, make sure you aim the dart

Fresh fruit by the platter

Sipping water

Hear it splatter

Got ash on my shirt

But I'm me, so it never matter

Fuck a job, stay at home

Rolling bones till I'm gone

Hair ties on my wrist

This the doped up ghost

Laying in my bed, feeling dead now

Money stashed in my pocket with the bands now

I don't like rap cause they do it wrong

I'm isolated cause I cannot take this shit no more

Laying in my bed now, feeling kinda dead now

Money stashed up in my pocket with the bands now

I don't like rap cause they do it wrong

I'm isolated cause I cannot take this shit no more

(What? what? I cannot take this shit no more)