Rav, Kill Bill - Kicks lyrics
[Rav, Kill Bill - Kicks lyrics]
All the other kids with the pumped up kicks
Put the chump up, slump, put the bump up in your mix
And I'm, so sick with the lyrics God dammit
Y'all get it, I'm famished, live it up when I'm lamping
Big shoes, fourteens on the feet
Kill Bill, you're the king on the beat, no sleep
I'm a keep rhyming when I twist up the ramen
Drumming keep timing, pretty bitch right beside me and uh
Six four, not the car, just height
Sick flower with the bars, just right, all right, (all right)
I ain't tripping when I'm finding my phone
Pain dripping off the top of my dome, that's alright though
I ain't playing man my mind gets psycho
Wrecking on the mic, man it's time for Geico
Hit my boy Rav for the cyc of Vico
I like to tight flow, the mic is my ho
And I'm having fun, everybody just dance with me
I'm trying to find a girl to get up out them pants for me
You know the name, Kill Bill be the man to be
My fans can see, the stans and freaks
We on, ten eleven, get the reverend
Swag on ball z, blast on y'all beats
Everybody blowing on something real nice, yeah its fucking real life
Sing us something we'll like (like)
All the other kids with the pumped up kicks
You better run and run, outrun my gun
All the other kids with the pumped up kicks
You better run and run, faster than my bullet
All the other kids with the pumped up kicks
You better run and run, outrun my gun
All the other kids with the pumped up kicks
You better run and run, faster than my bullet
All the other kids with the pumped up kicks
See my guns, then split, they don't want them clips
Wanna talk that shit? Finna suck my dick
Best understand, man I run this bitch
Chilling at the club, with a hundred chicks
With their shiny little eyes and they hungry lips
And they want R-av, cause the bars I spit
Got the hard flow, hardcore, art so sick
Part man, part beast, part artist
And them haters gonna hate cause they all blow dick
Fuck y'all pricks, I'm a hardcore kid
Get the smart girls fast and my car go quick
Popping Vico in large portions
Biblical flow, man I part oceans
Reaching for the stars, till you all go "shit!
Rav got fire on that charcoal shit!" (aaah!)
Forty-seven in the trunk
Double barrel in the back, Smith & Wesson in the front
Are you feeling lucky? Don't test me punk
I'm a break you in half like a Nestle's Crunch
See my fam knows me as a stand up guy
And I will live forever man I cannot die
Catch the other kids in my tank-top I
Tell 'em run little kids, with your hands up high
All the other kids with the pumped up kicks
You better run and run, outrun my gun
All the other kids with the pumped up kicks
You better run and run, faster than my bullet
All the other kids with the pumped up kicks
You better run and run, outrun my gun
All the other kids with the pumped up kicks
You better run and run, faster than my bullet
All the other kids with the pumped up kicks
You better run and run, outrun my gun
All the other kids with the pumped up kicks
You better run and run, faster than my bullet
Put the chump up, slump, put the bump up in your mix
And I'm, so sick with the lyrics God dammit
Y'all get it, I'm famished, live it up when I'm lamping
Big shoes, fourteens on the feet
Kill Bill, you're the king on the beat, no sleep
I'm a keep rhyming when I twist up the ramen
Drumming keep timing, pretty bitch right beside me and uh
Six four, not the car, just height
Sick flower with the bars, just right, all right, (all right)
I ain't tripping when I'm finding my phone
Pain dripping off the top of my dome, that's alright though
I ain't playing man my mind gets psycho
Wrecking on the mic, man it's time for Geico
Hit my boy Rav for the cyc of Vico
I like to tight flow, the mic is my ho
And I'm having fun, everybody just dance with me
I'm trying to find a girl to get up out them pants for me
You know the name, Kill Bill be the man to be
My fans can see, the stans and freaks
We on, ten eleven, get the reverend
Swag on ball z, blast on y'all beats
Everybody blowing on something real nice, yeah its fucking real life
Sing us something we'll like (like)
All the other kids with the pumped up kicks
You better run and run, outrun my gun
All the other kids with the pumped up kicks
You better run and run, faster than my bullet
All the other kids with the pumped up kicks
You better run and run, outrun my gun
All the other kids with the pumped up kicks
You better run and run, faster than my bullet
All the other kids with the pumped up kicks
See my guns, then split, they don't want them clips
Wanna talk that shit? Finna suck my dick
Best understand, man I run this bitch
Chilling at the club, with a hundred chicks
With their shiny little eyes and they hungry lips
And they want R-av, cause the bars I spit
Got the hard flow, hardcore, art so sick
Part man, part beast, part artist
And them haters gonna hate cause they all blow dick
Fuck y'all pricks, I'm a hardcore kid
Get the smart girls fast and my car go quick
Popping Vico in large portions
Biblical flow, man I part oceans
Reaching for the stars, till you all go "shit!
Rav got fire on that charcoal shit!" (aaah!)
Forty-seven in the trunk
Double barrel in the back, Smith & Wesson in the front
Are you feeling lucky? Don't test me punk
I'm a break you in half like a Nestle's Crunch
See my fam knows me as a stand up guy
And I will live forever man I cannot die
Catch the other kids in my tank-top I
Tell 'em run little kids, with your hands up high
All the other kids with the pumped up kicks
You better run and run, outrun my gun
All the other kids with the pumped up kicks
You better run and run, faster than my bullet
All the other kids with the pumped up kicks
You better run and run, outrun my gun
All the other kids with the pumped up kicks
You better run and run, faster than my bullet
All the other kids with the pumped up kicks
You better run and run, outrun my gun
All the other kids with the pumped up kicks
You better run and run, faster than my bullet