this one might be my favorite 🔥🔥🔥🔥

lilbubblegum x ciscaux - west side story (prod $upreme)

acculbed: www.youtube.com/@prodacculbed/featured

***OUT ON ALL PLATS***

Ambiance

Text Me

Text Me (prod. acculbed)

LYRICS:

GONDA:
IF YOU WANT, BITCH, YOU CAN GET IT
PROMISE THAT I KEEP EVERYTHING ‘ROUND ME COPACETIC
THESE RAPPERS COPYIN’ THE WAY WE DO IT, SO PATHETIC
THE ONLY THING I LEAVE YOU NEEDIN’ IS A PARAMEDIC

I POP OUT ON THE OPPS WITH THE CHOPPA, BROAD DAY
AND SEND ‘EM UP TO GOD FOR NO REASON BUT HE SAY
THE ONLY THING YOU GAIN IS SOME WEIGHT UP ON YO WAIST
I CANNOT WAIT, SECONDS TICKIN’ BY IS SUCH A WASTE
BITCH I’M OUTSIDE, SKIPPIN’ OUT THE FRONT DOOR, DIPPIN’ OUT THE BACK
WHEN I’M FINISHED BLOWIN’ OUT HER BACK LIKE A CHIROPRACTOR
I MAKE IT CRACK WHEN SHE CALLS ME
NIGGAS TALKIN’ SHIT, BUT STILL LIVIN’ WITH THEY MOMMY
OLD ENGLISH, I GOT THAT 40 OZ UPON ME
I GIVE ALL MY PRAISE TO THE EYE WHERE MY PALM ME
I NEVER PANIC, IF IT’S STATIC, ADDRESS IT CALMLY
BITCH, I’M FROM A CITY WHERE NIGGAS TURN INTO ZOMBIES
TAKE YOU TO THE TENDERLOIN, NIGHT OF THE LIVING DEAD
WHERE THEY FLIPPIN’ CELLPHONES, JUNKIE HOES GIVIN’ HEAD TO TRICKS
HOPPIN’ OFF THE PORCH LIKE A RABBIT, NOT TALKIN’ TRIX
SERIAL NUMBER UP ON THE GUN IS SCRATCH AND SNIFF
I TOLD MY HOMIE TAKE THE STICKER OFF THE BACK OF YOUR WHIP
YOU SHOULDA CUT IT UP, BITCH
TOUCH A BRICK LIKE I DO CONSTRUCTION, THE GLOCK MAKE ‘EM DROP IT TO THE FLOOR
LET ME SHOW YOU HOW IT FUNCTION

EVERYBODY WANNA BE RICH, EVERYBODY WANT FAME
EVERYBODY TRYIN’ TO ESCAPE THEY PAIN
LOOKIN’ UP AT GOD WHILE YOU BURN IN FLAMES
WHO DO YOU HAVE BUT YOURSELF TO BLAME?
BLACK, WHITE, BROWN, HOE WE ALL THE SAME
IF I WERE TO PASS, WOULD YOU SAY MY NAME?
IF I WERE TO DIE, WOULD YOU CARRY THE TORCH?
STAND UP MUTHAFUCKA, HOP OFF THE PORCH


MONGO:
HOPPIN’ OFF THE PORCH WHILE YOU ON THE BLOCK TRICKIN’
DOIN’ DIRT LIKE I’M DIGGIN’, ALWAYS GETTIN’ TO MY CHICKEN
MONGO WENT FROM 9 TO 5s BIPPIN’ ALL MY VICTIMS
TO A SKYRISE, I CAN SEE THE CITY WHERE I’M LIVIN’
I HAD TO DO THIS SHIT WITH GONDA
PUFFIN’ ON MY COMMAS, RIDIN’ ROUND IN THAT HONDA
STRONG MARIJUANA, THE ONLY THING THAT I’M FOND OF
I LIKE SOME BITCHES BLONDE, I LIKE SOME THAT LOOK LIKE OBAMA
STEPPIN’ IN THE PLAGUE, I AIN’T ROCKIN’ NO DAMN PRADA
PULL UP LOOKIN’ PROPER, I GET DOLLARS OFF MY PRODUCT
AND IF YOU WANT IT, YOU CAN GET IT MY DAWG
IF YOU CAN NAME IT, I PROMISE THAT I’M WITH IT MY DAWG
MIGHT GO BACK TO MY OLD WAYS AND HIT A LICK WITH MY DAWG
TALKIN’ SMACK, I PULL UP WIT A STICK WITH MY DAWG
THAT’S MY DAWG, THAT’S MY DAWG
I GET TO LICKIN’ MY PAWS, YOU APPALLED
IN YA BROAD, THAT’S WHERE I’M STICKIN’ MY BALLS
WE AIN’T THE SAME MUTHAFUCKA, YOU AIN’T WIT IT AT ALL
AND I CAN PUT YOU SIX FEET UNDER WITH NO FEELINGS INVOLVED
CUZ EVERYBODY WANNA FUCK WITH THE HAND
UNTIL THAT STICK GO BLICK, BLING, BLAOW AND YA MANS IN THE SAND
IT LOOK LIKE AFGHANISTAN WITH THE MAC IN MY HANDS
I PUT YA GANG IN A PAN, UNDERSTAND?

GONDA:
EVERYBODY WANNA BE RICH, EVERYBODY WANT FAME
EVERYBODY TRYIN’ TO ESCAPE THEY PAIN
LOOKIN’ UP AT GOD WHILE YOU BURN IN FLAMES
WHO DO YOU HAVE BUT YOURSELF TO BLAME?
BLACK, WHITE, BROWN, HOE WE ALL THE SAME
IF I WERE TO PASS, WOULD YOU SAY MY NAME?
IF I WERE TO DIE, WOULD YOU CARRY THE TORCH?
STAND UP MUTHAFUCKA, HOP OFF THE PORCH

IF YOU WANT, BITCH, YOU CAN GET IT
PROMISE THAT I KEEP EVERYTHING ‘ROUND ME COPACETIC
THESE RAPPERS COPYIN’ THE WAY WE DO IT, SO PATHETIC
THE ONLY THING I LEAVE YOU NEEDIN’ IS A PARAMEDIC
(x2)

HOP OFF THE PORCH (PROD. FONY WALLACE + JOSHBAE)

LYRICS:

GONDA:
SMOKE AWAY THE STRESS LIKE AHH…
SOMETIMES LIVIN’ LIFE FEELS LIKE HELL
MY TEARS HIT THE FLOOR LIKE AHH…
SOMETIMES LIVIN’ LIFE FEELS LIKE HELL

I SMOKE AWAY THE STRESS BUT IT ALWAYS COMES BACK
DEMONS SITTIN’ ON MY CHEST, I GOT SLEEP PARALYSIS
I BEEN FEELIN’ LIKE SHIT
I NEED SOMEONE TO COME AND RESURRECT A MUTHAFUCKA LIKE I’M LAZARUS
I WANNA FEEL ALIVE BUT SOMETIMES I WANNA DIE
THAT CONTRADICTION DRIVE ME CRAZY WHILE HALLUCINATIONS FILLIN’ UP MY VISION
HEARIN’ MY WORDS, KNOW THE DEFINITIONS OF ‘EM BUT DON’T REALLY LISTEN
YOU DON’T GOTTA BELIEVE IN GOD TO BE GOOD, I KNOW SOME VERY TERRIBLE CHRISTIANS
YOU WON’T BE SAVED, LIFE IS WHAT YOU MAKE, AHH…
TAKE IT TO THE GRAVE, LEAVE THE BREAD THAT YOU BREAK, AHH…
BLINDED BY SIN, BUT NOW I AM AWAKE, AHH…
SACRIFICE MY LIFE TILL THE DAY I MEET MY MAKER

SMOKE AWAY THE STRESS LIKE AHH…
SOMETIMES LIVIN’ LIFE FEELS LIKE HELL
MY TEARS HIT THE FLOOR LIKE AHH…
SOMETIMES LIVIN’ LIFE FEELS LIKE HELL

MONGO:
HIT THE GROUND WITH YO KNEES
CLOSE YO HANDS AND BE DECEIVED
I GOTTA BREATHE, SINNER GON’ SIN IF HE PLEASE
NO MATTER WHAT YOU BELIEVE
EVIL CORRUPTIN’ MY MIND EVERY DAY I’M ALIVE
MULTIPLY, CAPITALIZE
AND I REALLY NEED SOME HELP, STARE UP AT THE SKY
I’M BEGGIN’ FOR NO REPLY
IF GOD LOVES ALL, WHY WOULD HE MAKE ME THIS WAY?
IF NOTHIN’ CHANGE WHEN I PRAY, WHY THE FUCK MUST I MAINTAIN?
WHY WOULD I TRY IF I’LL JUST DIE KNOWIN’ I’LL BE TOSSED INTO HELL’S FLAME
LOST IN THE DARKNESS WITH NO NAME, WHERE AIN’T A DAMN THING MEAN A DAMN THING
YOU CAN’T BE SAVED
CLOSE YOUR EYES, NOTHIN’ BUT GREY
YOU FADE AWAY, NOTHIN’ BUT A HUSK OF DIRT AND DECAY
THE WORLD IS BLIND, A DISTANT MEMORY
A TRUTH THAT’S BEST TO FORGET, SO JUST SMOKE IT AWAY

GONDA:
SMOKE AWAY THE STRESS LIKE AHH…
SOMETIMES LIVIN’ LIFE FEELS LIKE HELL
MY TEARS HIT THE FLOOR LIKE AHH…
SOMETIMES LIVIN’ LIFE FEELS LIKE HELL

LIVING LIFE FEELS LIKE HELL (PROD. BUMBOI)

PAY DAT! (Prod. @estheticgloom)

Lyrics:

bumboi:
Down from the south to the north we some playas

Down down from the south to the north we some playas



Call up yung chop he might pop 
he gon spray sum 
Let that boy talk he a mop 
He might say sum 
Only time she call when she want 
me to lay some
Straight from the south to tha north we gon
Bake em 

Brodie said he want all the muhfuckin smoke yea 

Why he talkin sick better go n wipe his nose yea 

Say he got a cold we gon hang em like a coat
Then

Throw em in the sticks let him find his way home 
Yea


Uh 
he aint about it 
He be steady pillow talkin boy ikno he rattin
Grimey as them bugs that be stuck up in his mattress
Why he plottin on the bum boy u kno that gon end tragic

Aye yo money short just like it todo
Pull up to yo scene finna shoot it like a photo 

I aint never been the one to play tho
let the lemon squeeze
We gon fold em like some playdoh

Uh uh uh 
Uh uh uh uh uh 


T-Choppa:
 tell me why you looking neckless
Big chop pop mop hella reckless
Mofucker life I’m dip where the exit
If you wanna problem wit me den come press
the way you keep my dick up in yo mouth impressive 
anything thing we drop make the ops uneasy
Ima keep g gotta keep hair greezy
I’m hella fucking mad ayo bum pass bleezy 
Hot box shit like we kicking tip 
U don’t fucking we den you can suck a pp
I’m da beetle juice in cope moving creepy
Im horn dog mama best not tease me
Ima get these bands yeah my hands look cheesy
Pull up bow bow wow do a motherfucker greezy

BAGITARIUS - bumboi x t choppa (prod.bumboi)

LYRICS
We bring dirt to your ears
What it is hoe, and what it ain't
Bitch my pockets full, I'm making bank
Say what it is hoe, and what it ain't
What you see me do, these bitches can't

Go, go
Slide, thru the sticks wit my blicky, uh
That boy not no demon that nigga more like Little Nicky, uh
He not from the South he fakin' accents like Woahvicky
Bitch, DSG the mob who fuckin' with my committee
Tell him, pick your side and stay over there
Gangnem get on his head and lay him down like some baby hairs
I, I, don't give a fuck, we don't play it fair
Cryin' on the net about your problems nigga who cares

You wanna slide bout it? you, you, you wanna die bout it?
All that shit that's in your music know you lied bout it
I, I, I can't work with none of these rappers, Ion believe they words
You didn't really do that action I don't believe your verbs
Thinkin' that you fuckin' with li 8, boy put the drugs down
Came in with this 40 up this bitch and throw these slugs 'round
Tell em free the gang, free my dawgs out that dog pound
Thought he was the sickest so we had to put his dog down

Slide, thru the sticks wit my blicky, uh
That boy not no demon that nigga more like Little Nicky, uh
He not from the South he fakin' accents like Woahvicky
Bitch, DSG the mob who fuckin' with my committee
Tell him, pick your side and stay over there
Gangnem get on his head and lay him down like some baby hairs
I, I, don't give a fuck, we don't play it fair
Cryin' on the net about your problems nigga who cares

Who, who, who cares (Who cares)
Who, who, who cares (Who cares)
Who, who, who cares (Who cares)
Who, who, who cares (Who gives fuck)
Who, who, who cares (Who cares)
Who, who, who cares (Who cares)
Who, who, who cares (Who cares)
Who, who, who cares (Who gives fuck)

Who Cares (Prod. pharmacist x cloudymane)

Lyrics 

why he walkin with a limp 
lil bitch stuck in a ditch 
throw a fit but i don’t give shit 
up my clip and let it hit 
40 rounds packed in this shit hoe 
ain’t nobody wanna fuck with me hoe 
i might let it rip 
up on my wrist what that shit cost 
runnin up the game like a big boss 
talkin all that shit that’s a big loss 
cookin but he never had no sauce 
rockin jesus pieces up on my cross 

lil bitch you’s a hoe 
ain’t nobody care no more 
snitching on the gang cuz you broke 
see flash of light it’s my scope 
peekin thru your window drill a hole 
i might siege motha fuckers who just cope 
runnin out yo crib bitch you know i slam the door 
leave him fuckin leakin see his body on the floor 
it might be an accident im just pushin for the dough 

me and gang steady gettin to the dollar 
if he talkin then he lookin for a hollow 
i been standing on business lil bitch i been with it i don’t care bout your lil fuckin follows 
got my gat in the back ima let it fuckin spray 
shot him out on his knees now he better fuckin pray 
i’m just smokin on some gas til end of my days 
he don’t wanna pass it back but that bitch never paid

Jesus Pieces On The Cross (prod. samashi)

Lyrics 

trash jit and demon squad hoppin out the whip 
blastin at these suckers who been talkin all this shit 
i been shootin for minute gotta pistol with a grip 
puff up on my stogie then i flick it on you bitch  
ridin in that caddy i might smack a motha fucka 
gang i keep it steady never playin get to duckin 
push up in yo fuckin crib my homie get to buckin 
never lackin i been droppin all these hits but it ain’t nothing 

bend around your corner bitch you know i fuckin swang 
brand new pistol on my hip and bitch i’m gonna let it spray 
all that fuckin talkin gonna put you in a fuckin grave 
i ain’t really care, had to let em know that we don’t play 

it’s the demon squad 
never fuckin know what we been smokin on 
pulling right outta the back 
i got this pack tucked in my fuckin arm 
rollin right outta sack 
i got this gat tucked bitch i’m fuckin armed 
pullin up on trashjit demons we’ll leave you fuckin scared

TrashJitMP3 x Yung.Eyan - Rest in Paper (prod. DJ Acarthus)

LIVE FROM THA JUMP - bumboi / Xoo

Lyrics:

I load my gat i cock it back and now im very deadly 
Just wanna stack dont wanna mack you cannot come upset me 
Ill let you try and if you do i keep my burna ready 
I tie the noose and dress u down in death like its yo wedding 

Oh they cant hear you when you screaming built these walls to silence 
Aint no point of holding on little bitch u already dying 
I put this blade up to my lip to to taste the pain and violence 
Its dsg until the death of me 
But im never dying 


35 percent of top shelf in my lungs 
IM LIKE HUH
dont Break yo neck hoe im the one they thinking of 
when its done 
Go grab a tissue wipe yo tears before it 
blood in my cup 
I never wanna see yo face again you ugly as fuck

NO MORE TALKING - bumboi (prod. NXTTY)

Don't take anything on here too seriously I'm just doing this for fun

Wanna talk? Always down
Discord: yaboiCLYDX#8537

Text Me (prod. acculbed)

ILY CLYDX

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