[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

veeze - simon says (prod. shawn ferrari)

thank you little cloud , 

                                        heartbreak hotel

Sir Xavier Octavius Finesse

xo (@XOFINESSE)

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