[VERSE I: Wetto]

it's the pimp player
money maker
body layer
say a prayer
hoe stacking
pistol packing
white boy with the permed hair
choppa sprizzay 
what the biz say
i just brought a cold front
to the sizzouth
gold mizzouth
ice out like a storefront
slick spit that mack shit
make the track hit
ain't no time for a whack bitch unless the mouth sick
face down in the mattress
make that back dip
make her feel like an actress in a porno flick
ride off in a Benz thang
took off with no trace
psychopathic with that 9 mane
i might catch a case
mask on or the mask off
it don’t make no difference cuz I slide with them killas, mane
they don’t leave a witness
heard you tipping to the feds, mane
must be off your meds, mane
pissing in his pants when i put that chrome to his head, mane
leave him dead, mane
saved his boys some head pain
one less snitch in the gang
that's a net gain
bet, mane
heard it was that anna you was checking for
ruger, choppa, semi
what the fuck i need a vest for?
have them hoes tweaking like a despo
smoking on a blizzunt while this jizzunt make that neck go
damn bro
wetto beat them boys like a guerilla pimp
never simp
bring your beef to god because i'm heavent sent
talk that playa shit
hoes they circumvent
shout out project pat
mista don't play and i been leaning since

[VERSE II: Blanco Leopardo]

bitch im angola bound
going down to the southside of the lake
riding round town
plotting on whos shit im bout to take
if it's fake ima sell it
if it's real ima sell it
outside of the lexus forest green 
i know you jealous
born a warlord out the ward of the seventh
all these deadly sins i think the fifth made me a felon
begging for armageddon 
i got eleven virgins waiting for me heaven
bitch i ain't stressing
pimp a bitch just because
blanco never need a reason, hoe
never tell these hoes a secret unless you wanna leak it, hoe
seen a ghost but i was puffin piff up in the mirror
you want smoke?
fit you in a coffin then ill say it clearer 
i got corners in gentilly where we slang that millie bobbie brown
never been on trial cuz the bodies wasn't ever found
thats how we do em down south
bayou style 
feed the gators when them rats start running wild
tryna bite my style
i got skulls floating in the swamp
i got bones covered up in moss
blanco burnin up a fuckin cross
all my demons know whos fucking boss
ooweeoo
who are you?
ruby rougarou
holla hootie hoo when you see them boys in baby blue
ooweeoo
who are you?
blanco in a coupe
uzi out the roof raining bullets

YIN YANG TAPES: Spring Season (1989-1990)

Chateau Gris

CHÂTEAU GRIS

[VERSE I: Blanco Leopardo]

yeah they call me yung mutt
in the cut smelling like some indica
all these hoes keep splitting cuffs
spilling guts
no ands, ifs, or buts
if her butt was any fatter i'd be fucked and quickly bust
splatter kids all on her mug like she's allergic to my nut
give her antihistamines
pistol green like it's a buck
trigger squeezing like i'm fiending for a reason to give up 
bend your knees
begging please like i could really give a fuck
uzi tucked against my spleen
i'll make you bleed until you rust
for the static, i'm an addict
back at it like a chiropractic crack habit
if i want it ima have it
knock you off this fucking planet
send your corpse up to the stars replace em all with fucking maggots
pants saggin'
red flaggin'
ima get the bag whether it's paper or it's plastic
all these fuckboys i be slappin'
aint got time for all your cappin’
ima conjure up my demons
whisper all their names in latin

[VERSE II: Wetto]

yung wetto
it's yung north, mane
whipping in a ford thang
gripping on the hammer
indiana
slicky fort wayne
pot filled with white dust
house color white nut
looking for the chewing
patrick ewing out a white slut
cup dirty
glock 30
murk a motherfucker quick
eastern bloc
sticker shock
custom how i rock a benz
5% on the tint looking like the babadook
fuck a fight i'd rather shoot
my youngin' hollering hootie hoo
i yell amen
hollow tips rain in
59 guerilla
i'm too real for them to cage in
southern cajun
suckers bite the pavement
told that hoe to hit my agent talking bout engagements
fuck a blame shift
i'm that motherfucker, boy
creeping thru the night
turbos breathing like they paranoid
billy bob a halle berry
wetto makaveli
northside
burn em all at the stake while singing bloody mary

Realism Vs Idealism

REALISM VS IDEALISM

[VERSE I: Blanco Leopardo]

bitch im poppin sticks like im nick cannon
smash her like im ganondorf
all my homies stuntin
we all ballin like we manage sports
fuckboi on my dick
wants a pic
go head and tag the dork
miss me with that bullshit
yeah i shoulda been a matador
slap a whore
choke a bitch
man i think i broke her hip
fuck her til she soaked in piss
i plan to make a note of it
blanco always faded like a motherfucking poke n stick
ready to snatch a soul
seal ya fate up with a frozen kiss
i'm smoking bliss
turn a fuckboy into mist
scratch a name off of my list and add another
just for kicks
open slit up on my wrist
yeah i think they get the gist
tighten up my fucking fist
blanco never fucking miss
spit out the drip
dont want crystals in my stomach
all these crystals on my bitch
align her chakras while we fuckin
rearranging all her plumbing
all these suckas think they stuntin'
but they really just lame
spittin' out flames
bitch i bang grey 
five nine til the day i die
my tear ducts all dried
i fear i dont know why i feel so normal when im high
all these voices in my head i cant tell which one is the lie
always bring the storm yeah blanco blackin out the sky

[VERSE II: Wetto]

give it how these haters want it
break a bitch up on it
yung slick walking coma as i smoke the marijuana
its yung north 
make the bass shake
tell a bitch wait
diamonds shine as i flip it
ship it make the weight skate
i been wrist whipping
flocking chickens
when i slide pimping
glock gripping
pop a clip in
have your mind spinning
spine bending
bloody linens in your mom kitchen
crime ridden
hood i'm from ain’t got no prime lending
slicky flame sizzle
rolling with a tank missile 
tell a hoe to hit them knees and let me fuck her brain tissue
i'm popping 30s seeing blurry
still I can’t miss you
pop the stick and blow the clip
kill everyone that came with you
same issues
playing russian roulette with revolvers
i go gung ho with that drum roll like i'm travis barker
“last offer”
hear the devil talking to me often
fuck a coffin when I die just burn me in a foreign
wetto chris walken
haunted like the deer hunter
you a larp with no heart just tuck your dick under
you a fed you a cop you a real uncer
scarface wetto with that metal let that steel rumble

YIN YANG TAPES: Fall Season (1989-1990)

Every Dog Has His Day

EVERY DOG HAS HIS DAY

[VERSE I: Wetto]

motherfuck that set you claim
you know it's cut throat from the grey
hoe stay the fuck away
glock tucked on my side
pull up like i'm AAA
any motherfucking time
any motherfucking day
demons all around me and they begging for a fucking taste
same shit
different day
playing with the K
northside
eastern bloc
where the fuck i stay
still up creeping in the cut
remain sick as fuck
pop a addy off the fent
feel too good to duck
breaking bad
i been rolling with the devil lately
have you ever seen a demon pull up in a new mercedes?
most hated
underrated
you know grey the clique
walking straight to hell and clear the motherfucking pit
better stay away
better stay away
stay the fuck away
stay the fuck away
i just popped a perc
i just popped a xan
see this bag of dope?
that's a hundred grand
sell a bitch some hope
fuck her hit the dash
looking for some love?
holler at ya mans
for that heroin ima dog
slicky pavlov
yeah you know it's personal when the mask off
leave his body on display like it's half off
scammed the game
call me bernie wetto madoff
glock out
cock out
tell the world suck my dick
sam wetto hyde cuz i always get away with it
three fingers high
59 what the fuck it is
three fingers high bitch im grey til the fucking end

[VERSE II: Blanco Leopardo]

blanco never shootin' blanks
got one in the chamber with yo name on it
blanco pulling rank
captain of the grey 
stay flauntin' in a fucking tank
east bank
got my blade sharpened
cut, slice, or shank
either way ima flay my target
why all these opps on my block, huh?
pull out the chop like a mop, bruh
street sweeping like its mardi gras
litter up the streets with a buncha bloody body parts
swangin' on them 30s
got them 30s in my glove box
cops pull me over
they about to get they mug popped
cherry lemonade type of stain 
pull off in the rain
spilt his fucking brain like a bitch who loves to chug cock
leave me the fuck alone
leave me the fuck alone
leave me the fuck alone
leave me the fuck alone
grey steppin'
im reppin' the *59
all of my potnahs my lifeline
30 deep
33 years i could keep
if i stop with these 30s, im cleared for the week
gang with me
whole gang with me 
i got no fear in these streets
bang semi autos while im hanging out the fucking jeep
never sleep
tweakin' off the rock
blanco plays for keeps
real life drug addict
come downs always fucking steep
never sleep
i know that the reaper waiting for me
i know that he patient
i see his reflection when im pouring up
codeine in a cup 
double it up
now im snoring
i might not wake up
uzi tucked next to my 40
southside of the lake
yeah im always 7th warding
all these pills i take em, bitch 
there aint no fucking hoarding
i got two phones
shawty try and hit me on my other line
shawty lookin fine
gonna call her back another time
dollar signs on my fucking mind
while i break her spine
pulled out just in time
i cant let her have my fucking slime

whatwhat

WHATWHAT

One Of Dem Ones

Jwett Talk (feat. RugRat)

DIRTY NASTY SUICIDE

$UICIDEBOY$ x GERM - WEST END

https://G59Records.com

[VERSE I: BIG GRIEVE]

Make a punk bitch bite the curb
American history X
Burning churches until the dirt
Walk off and throw up the set
Just another Sunday purge, I'm Isis with blades and a neck. throw his body to the herd
This what happens when you flex
Fuck boy, I lace your mama's drink with LSD, gave your sister mescaline, then chased her up and down the street
Never sleep
Stay on the creep to kill you sheep
Mark of the beast
Walking disease
Hell is my theme

[VERSE II: LIL OOZING]

Gimme a cigarette, my nerves is bad
What the fuck your name is, boy?
I never heard of that
Germ is back in the n.o. we made a murder pack
She let out a nervous laugh
Swimming in the deep like where the surface at?
Make the sign of the cross and then I'm skrrtin' in the church's ash
Let me soul escape I'm switching bodies like a hermit crab
Home is where the dirt it at
Lemme circle back to the days when i said "fuck the world"
It's still me versus that
Ruby stuntin' like a circus at

[VERSE III: GERM]

Who that there with all that flare?
Stare into my eyes, I dare you
Ride with the carbon
Pistons in the hood
Ben Wallace with me
Just might shoot you down
Don't make no sound
Big gun sounds get to rushing, bitch
It's nothing
DirtyNasty$uicide
It's you or I
It's do or die
Bitch, it's me
I got hunnids and i heard your tank's on "e."
Boot me down, I stomp you out
Big body bitch hold on my heat
Clap 'em with the ratty just for acting all types
Of cheesy
Better believe me, hoe
Gimme the cheese and dope

DIRTIERNASTIERSUICIDE

$UICIDEBOY$ x GERM - 20TH CENTURION

$UICIDEBOY$ X RAMIREZ - GREY MAGIC

Fuck Your Culture

Scope Set

$UICIDEBOY$ - Soul Doubt

WHATWHAT

$UICIDEBOY$

Recent comments

Matthew

Brylee

Brylee

Brylee

Related tracks