Name: PoorMe (prod. Gualabeatz) by k.m.p.
Duration: 2 min 23 s
Description: PoorMe (prod. Gualabeatz)

https://G59Records.com

[VERSE I: LIL CIG]
psycho ward to the mental i'm a don
in the wards got the fenty in my 'ron
skate the block off them xannies so i'm calm
cough a lot from that damage to my lungs
dope smokin'
gun totin'
i'm a killer's killer
pill popper
i don't know a lot who really sicker
full of liquor
codeine drinker
fucking up my liver
pull the trigger
up the thriller
to the highest bidder
ooh la la
what's the vibe, pussy boy??
AK boom
put 'em in their tomb
take lives just because
say nah i'm on fire from the drugs
bend that hoe
gave that bitch some dick
she get off of my nut
she gon deep throat it til she cry
got my face tatted on her thigh
realest mother fucker from the 5
every meal the last supper when you God

[VERSE II: DUCKBOY]
send me the fucking addy and I'll see yall in a second
keys to the fleetwood caddy
push to start the 911
drive these bitches crazy
yeah, they always tryna date me
tryna save me
it's all because I suck her titties like a baby
hate me all you want
better watch you back I never front
you want problems?
i got a bunch
ain't nothing changed except the chunk
knock the piss out a pussy boy
trust
snort a 30 off the .40 let it bust
gimme bread watch how quick I start to duck
I put fenty on her toes
she put fenty in my cup
what with all this racket?
what the fuck with all this fuss?
ruby unapproachable but still they bum rush
oh my
suicide
you're that guy
you're that guy
who wanna die
what's your sign?
she's a 9
personality borderline
she tried to stand me up, but I dicked her down and bent her spine

Avalon

AVALON

[VERSE I: Yung Christ]
i got the glock in my yoga pants
fucking that bitch in a yoga stance
swanging that K in an open stance
loaded from smoking that opium
stain a lil boy in the clothes he's in
all of my walls they closing in
5150
they tryna come get me
just minding my business and moseying
matte black
smoking packs
panic attacks back to back
xanax on my lap debating 
should i relapse?
but back to the hoe i was talking bout
i just wanna put it up in her mouth
pimping up in my blood
wassup cuz?
thuggin that dirty south
four letter
two numbers bitch
GREY*59
three fingers in the air
main bitch by my side
slicky pull up in a quarter mill and slaughter up your daughter
young jesus with them forgi wheels
don't walk he drive on water
anytime, anyplace
any hood, any state
good til i fucking ain't
woods to the fucking face
riding with my baby Sage
lines on expensive plates
tears on my diamond chains
stoic never looking phased
poet when i'm spitting game
show me how that pussy shaved
dosage climbing with my shame
mama crying for my pain
will they ever understand?
can i even help my dad?
money fucking up my fam
giving until there's nothing left
pulling up in that latest "damn!"
chopper stay on me 
don't need no hands
prefer to be lonely 
don't need no friends
hoe we just fucking i don't date fans
i'm with my cousin and talking plans
went to my hood and copped some land
blowing through my money like democrats
2 step on the IRS fuck a tax



[VERSE II: Romeo da Black Rose]
why the fuck you look to me for help?
there ain't an ace in the cards i was dealt
i'm 31
still don't know how to take care of myself
honestly i'm scared that i might melt
leave behind a bunch of black spots on a white pelt
maybe in the next life i'll come back as a nice belt
i don't know
there's a fine line between me and you
the biggest difference is i'll snort that shit and prolly puke
dodge and juke all the bullshit yall try and put me through
but i'm shining
babygirl wylin
catch me riding by with that look in my eyes
palm starts to sweat by the way i'm gripping my 9
yeah i'm always on my toes but i'm still the same height
standing tall over my grave
make sure it's filled with all the people we supposedly saved
make sure you throw the plaques in and all the money we made
i can't put 'em on my wall that shit just ain't my taste
lil shawty wanna marry me
i said "you're better off in debt"
if it didn't work out, baby, i'd be real hard to forget
germans whips and private jets
private beaches to access
fuck on me, baby
i'm still a mess and no that ain't a threat
i ride for my family that's GREY*59
try and be all i can be and not waste my time
on the brink of insanity
i can't make up my mind
yeah i battle my vanite and think i'm blind

G59Records.com

Sing Me a Lullaby, My Sweet Temptation

Matte Black

MATTE BLACK

[VERSE I: Anthony Mars]
yo light that cigarette
i'm tripping
ash it on my bitches
taking my dose
i never skip it
still in my hood up pistol gripping
still got 100 blunts
got that bape up in my cup
stay with a bitch in the cut who stay with my dick in her guts
wetto the king of the GREY
self park i don't fuck with valet
sheesh
private jet fuck a delay
went to paris and back in a day
okay
no i'm never okay
bitch stop asking
came up and supported my family
just for that they should give me a grammy
running and ducking the slammer
thinking bot cocking the hammer
the lights the glitter the glamour
none of this shit even matters
none of this shit made me happy
wound up in rehab instead of a casket
locking me up and they had the rooms padded
made a straight jacket my fashion

[VERSE II: Norman Atomic]
ruby that motherfucker
grim reaping
i'm undercover
soul seeking
i found another bitch who's thinking that i'm her lover
no
reason i keep on shrugging
blunt is cashed let's keep 'em coming
only weed keeps me from bugging and from seeking out more destruction
i'm a pro at self doubt but i doubt i'll ever know 
that these bitches want me to fly 'em out all because i upped the glow
all these fuckbois wanna be me but they keep it on the low
and talk shit about me and my cousin while we're thumbing through our dough
all this fame is such a curse sometimes i wish i was a ghost
watch me raise the fucking dead next time i'm on stage at a show

[OUTRO: Anthony Mars & Norman Atomic]
haunted, haunted
i can't escape my mind
it's like i'm doing time all the time
exhausted, lost it
just one little line
have this talk with god all the time

1000 Blunts

1000 BLUNTS

[VERSE I: Yung Maraschino]
southside shorty on them all black forgis
$UICIDE for life, but i ain't touring at 40
bitches begging for a ring just cuz i can kinda sing
but the only thing that i want is to be a fucking normie
hold up, lil mama
i got them thangs
what about 'em?
whats the problem?
i got my own, you ain't gotta solve 'em
i promise it won't effect you
i'm just tryna holla
starving for attention but i'm not tryna bother you
i used to come in last
focused on the past
now i'm drifting down the highway until i run out of gas
don't wanna be recognized but i ain't wearing a mask
just point and fucking wave
i don't wanna be tagged

[VERSE II: Young North]
ima north side playa snorting southside dope
pull up in the benz
give the southside hope
joe exotic what i’m smoking
backwood flaming
backwoods claiming
(yo slick what you saying?)
ima praying motherfucker
(lying motherfucker)
okay up and spray a motherfucker if they step in my business
(keep spraying motherf—-!)
sorry that’s my mental illness
need to pop me a pill before i finish these lyrics
(ahhh okay)
now i’m stunting like my daddy
swerving in that caddy
thinking about getting high because my fam rather me that way
just know that i tried but i think it’s time
sincerely signed, $UICIDE

G59Records.com

Unlucky Me

UNLUCKY ME

$UICIDEBOY$ x SHAKEWELL - BIG SHOT CREAM SODA

Again - Young Thug ft. Gucci Mane

[VERSE I: SLICK SLOTH]

playa haters surround me like vultures on a dead body
get the fuck from 'round me, ain't tryna be yo' fuckin' friend 
white boy with the nappy hair
bought the platinums, nah, not double-O, bruh
bunch of all you thirsty
thirty somethin' motherfuckin' bald head headass
won't get off this playa nuts
test yo' luck, might catch slugs
this that middle finger up
shit, fuck a bitch
and fuck you too for thinkin' we would not make it
tell me, really (How does it feel?)
if you were in the field believin' the vision that we living
fuck the fluxes of competition, we got the leverage (How does it feel?)
fuck you punks, we stock weapons
47s, .45s, TECs, poles on deck
cut throat, boy
there's more than one reason that I'm a—

[VERSE II: Ruby da Cherry]

broke boy ain't broke
i got a lot of fucking bread now
i've seen the globe
muffaletta loaf sitting in the right and left pockets
but my pockets got a lot of fucking holes
leave a trail of the crumbs for them fuckboys to follow
yeah fill up that hollow stomach with my sorrow
tomorrow ain't promised - a tough pill to swallow
but roxycodone ain't a tough pill to snort
it's a tough pill to kick
always fall short
standing tall with my vice
fuck yall for the sport
the money the bitches the fame
feeling like a hoard
now i'm smoking more ports
and i'm closer to death than i was when i was poor
cooking pizza in the kitchen
passing out on the couch
i'll die from being bored
sing a sadass song with just 4 chords
oh lord
sing a sadass song
another death in the 7th ward
oh lord
sing a sadass song for yung $now 
putting in hours at the morgue
sing a sadass song for another tally on the sword
blizzard storm when i mourn

PoorMe (prod. Gualabeatz)

k.m.p.

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