Clipping. - La Mala Ordina (feat. The Rita (CA), Benny the Butcher, Elcamino) lyrics

clipping. Benny the Butcher

clipping. [Daveed Diggs, William Hutson, Jonathan Snipes] LA, CA. U.S. 🇺🇸

Benny the Butcher [Jeremie Damon Pennick] Buffalo, New York, U.S. 🇺🇸

[Clipping. - La Mala Ordina feat. The Rita CA, Benny the Butcher, Elcamino lyrics]

The bags on the table ain't for weight
They for body parts
Victim skin stretched across the wall
Call it body art bodies for the pile
Bring 'em out stacked on a dolly cart (yeah)
Anybody out there ain't on drugs yet
They should prolly start (Start)
This too real
Talking 'bout your life's a movie
When the party start (Turn up)
But you ain't pick a genre
Lil' bitch that wasn't hardly smart (No)
The script was shit, your
Third act really drags
The structure falls apart
So here the fixer come
Clipping limbs to serve 'em à la carte
The horror show was so wack
You said you'd never go back
But you standing over the stove talking
'bout you really know crack (What you know)


Crack is what a skull do
(Yep) , so if someone getting brain
That mean it was nice to know you
The spinal fluid a go-to to thicken the pot
The clique out in the whip whipping the snot
Out a submissive till he shit blood
You thought they was dickin' a thot?
You got your rap shit fucked up
Matchstick tucked up under the tongue
Pour the oil, smell the sulfur, then you run
(Run)

I'm rollin' up in the back of a G-wagon
I'm always on G-status, look
(Look G'ed up, nigga)
40 on my lap, that's the heat package
I'm from a hood where we beat rappers
(We beat these pussy ass niggas)
We way too grimey, we don't see rappers
(Don't see y'all niggas)
They s'posed to be street
But really be actors
I really be with the jackers
The ones who be clappin'
Shit and pistol packin'
Niggas who really trappin' (Really trappin')
Cocaine selling with 60 in they mattress
(Stackin' nigga) and do it with passion
This how these bitches be doin' they lashes
I hate niggas that sit on they asses
(Fuckin' hate y'all niggas)
Always asking but they ain't
Makin' shit happen
Get out my way I'm craftin', laughin'
(We laughin') let me spark my matches

Yo, I hope you niggas can jet (Uh, huh)
'Cause you dealing with a rapper
That smoke contenders for rec (Nigga)
Real dope boy
I cook coke and interval stretch diamonds
Right outta pot everything invisible set
(yeah) trunk got pies in it
Disappeared in five minutes
The plug took the team where we
Never been like Kawhi Leonard (Woo)
Tote straps never smoked jack but
Go live with it (What)
In my book that's dry snitchin'
But that's only my opinion gangstas know
Killers stay patient till they down something
(Chill) but hit 'em like a real estate
Agent when he house huntin'
Rolex dial studded feds say my time flooded
(Damn) put another chain on my neck and
I'm a drown from it
El Padrino in the El Camino if you bitch
Get a jive switch and sell what's legal
(Pussy) we might smile ear to ear but
You can tell we evil
These rap niggas dye they hair
Just to sell some singles the Butcher!

Rock, paper, ice pick nice trick, no homonym
Cutouts from a magazine
Make letters for your mom and them
Who remember arts and crafts
These killers is artisans
With an arsenal to elevate your arteries
Start again rock, paper
Zip tie that slow burn that drip dry
That fissures in your field of vision
Make your world a fisheye
That round edge make it worser when
The bubble burst you just cry
Laid out on the floor without a
Tongue trying to ask why rock, paper
Gun shot classic out in some spots
If you prefer the sweet life maybe
You can die like gum drops
Smooth and round and melting if you're
Left out when the sun's hot
This the preferred method of smart
Killers and dumb cops rock, paper
Papercut take 'em out to get tapered up

To make a meal, or make a martyr
Make a man today or what
And let 'em know the dealer's had enough

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