GRIMEBAG! lyrics

It's that grimebag
Sprinkle meth up in 'ya f*ckin dime bag
Word that sh*t hit?
I got you smoking cyanide gas
Ya b*tch up in the slaughter house
She might not arrive back
Barber with the glizzy push ya mother f*ckin lining back
Brain splatter with a buckshot
Hit ya b*tch with the butt stock
'Ion got no mother f*ckin opps
'Cause the tool bang with a red dot
Close range with a f*ckin headshot
Head top
Make 'em mother f*ckin mags drop
Don't say 'nun
Pump make a b*tch n*gga back up
Act up
b*tch I c*ck it back and I rack one
All y'all n*ggas soft b*tch I'll show you where the crime at
Pull up to ya crib, lay everyone inside flat
FMJ green tips, where you finna hide at?
Spin ya block I let it off, everyonе outside wacked
Feds comе 'round this motherf*cka, you best not have sh*t to say
Aiming for ya head, tell ya dead brother you on ya way
Chain smoking opp packs, ya b*tch be my ash tray
You on death row n*gga, this gone be ya last day
Hit that n*gga point blank, f*cked up my designer jeans
Simp ass n*gga, she was thotting, you call her a queen
All y'all n*ggas ass, Ima take a sh*t up on the scene
Drive by, walk up, I up that Glock 17
Spill out ya guts when I dump out this magazine
Leave 'em stomach f*cked like he drank a whole pint of lean
Spray that tool like windex, make sure his crib clean
It's gone be a cookout if the pigs try to intervene
f*ck!