billy woods - Blowout lyrics
[billy woods - Blowout lyrics]
Hail Marys get tossed playmakers on one knee
Genuflect an inverted cross looks like
You lost, boss that’s how the cookie crumbles
Welcome to the jungle crush rappers
Recover the fumble (First down) the way
I play, ain’t no out-of-bounds keep swinging
‘Til you stay on the ground
Keep a Pound like the
Cleveland Browns baltimore when I’m
Out of town twist up when I touch down rhyme
Cannon never out of rounds win, lose, or
Draw, close with raw cigar every-
-body by the ball
Lift the glass for these I95
All-Stars been doing it since sax
In backyards, juking squad cars on boulevards
Stiff-arming security guards in Juilliard
Look at the motherfucking scoreboard
Look at the motherfucking scoreboard
Priviledge on the mic, massive yard
Flash gas
Faggots need to quit rapping, take a step
When shit happens like gats
You’re wrapped in an ill faction
Thinking you can still master top mics
Shows rock
Tight flows god guys grown, you the deacon
I’m the
Pastor, rhyme disaster, spit a mind-mes-
-merizing, spine-tingling, bursting at
Disperse when the word’s worth
Less than your life, Murk
Crushed is what you get when
You cook with the crockpot
I mean, the pot cooking
Grub-robbing all hotspots
On fan shows, we dove
Freak hoes need clothes ass out the steeple
Preaching math to the people from
Philly to Indonesia dawg
I see you when I see you like
Martin told Gina started off in
The arena if you
Want to get down with this evil
Be either crushing meters in the measure
Plus I heard you’re living single like
, spit your facts plus, I keep
The meters intact while I’m on stage rhyming
Sound bleeding through your speakers
Like a hemophiliac, Slice
Leaking on the sneakers for all
These cats who wanna
Scream on receivers, start it off if you
Wanna harness the prowess smack
Emcees like baby powder (Uh, uh)
It’s the ladies hour (You nah’mean?) come
Receive my baby showers (What? Yeah)
Victory slid through my hands back on
The run like the Taliban, brass bands
Dirty Dozen, village of the damned hatching
Plans fuck Afghanistan colt
Two’ll be on 125 with an M1 Garand
Kickstand Cannondale, Uncle Sam
Drawing lines in the sand with
Iran i got a bird
In the hand the fuck I need two grams?
A Bush, shove comes to push, shove comes to
Push when they came for the Jews, you said
Nothing when they came for the Muslims too
You said nothing
So don’t call my crew when it’s
Your spot they’re rushing
Genuflect an inverted cross looks like
You lost, boss that’s how the cookie crumbles
Welcome to the jungle crush rappers
Recover the fumble (First down) the way
I play, ain’t no out-of-bounds keep swinging
‘Til you stay on the ground
Keep a Pound like the
Cleveland Browns baltimore when I’m
Out of town twist up when I touch down rhyme
Cannon never out of rounds win, lose, or
Draw, close with raw cigar every-
-body by the ball
Lift the glass for these I95
All-Stars been doing it since sax
In backyards, juking squad cars on boulevards
Stiff-arming security guards in Juilliard
Look at the motherfucking scoreboard
Look at the motherfucking scoreboard
Priviledge on the mic, massive yard
Flash gas
Faggots need to quit rapping, take a step
When shit happens like gats
You’re wrapped in an ill faction
Thinking you can still master top mics
Shows rock
Tight flows god guys grown, you the deacon
I’m the
Pastor, rhyme disaster, spit a mind-mes-
-merizing, spine-tingling, bursting at
Disperse when the word’s worth
Less than your life, Murk
Crushed is what you get when
You cook with the crockpot
I mean, the pot cooking
Grub-robbing all hotspots
On fan shows, we dove
Freak hoes need clothes ass out the steeple
Preaching math to the people from
Philly to Indonesia dawg
I see you when I see you like
Martin told Gina started off in
The arena if you
Want to get down with this evil
Be either crushing meters in the measure
Plus I heard you’re living single like
, spit your facts plus, I keep
The meters intact while I’m on stage rhyming
Sound bleeding through your speakers
Like a hemophiliac, Slice
Leaking on the sneakers for all
These cats who wanna
Scream on receivers, start it off if you
Wanna harness the prowess smack
Emcees like baby powder (Uh, uh)
It’s the ladies hour (You nah’mean?) come
Receive my baby showers (What? Yeah)
Victory slid through my hands back on
The run like the Taliban, brass bands
Dirty Dozen, village of the damned hatching
Plans fuck Afghanistan colt
Two’ll be on 125 with an M1 Garand
Kickstand Cannondale, Uncle Sam
Drawing lines in the sand with
Iran i got a bird
In the hand the fuck I need two grams?
A Bush, shove comes to push, shove comes to
Push when they came for the Jews, you said
Nothing when they came for the Muslims too
You said nothing
So don’t call my crew when it’s
Your spot they’re rushing