MISS THE RAGE Remix lyrics

[Intro: Shleem Pink!]
Just like this sh*t
Let's f*ck this sh*t
Baby, blow my brains out
Baby, blow my- slatt!

[Chorus 1: Shleem Pink!]
Can't feel a damn thing (Slatt)
Can't feel a damn thing no more (Slatt)
Can't feel a damn thing (Slatt)
Can't feel a damn thing no more
Sip, sip, sip, sip, sip sippin' on the spot
Yeah, pour it to the top (Codeine!)
Yeah, bad b*tch on my c*ck
Counting money, never stop, yeah
Baby, blow my- slatt!
Can't feel a damn thing (Slatt)
Can't feel a damn thing no more (Slatt)
Can't feel a damn thing (Slatt)

[Verse 1: XANAKIN SKYWOK]
N****s on they f*ck sh*t, let 'em drum hit
Bussin', I-I ain't never love a b*tch, so f*ck this
It's just more than that, you two been playing to rob, but don't cliff
You a dumb sh*t, and you b*tch be done, but don't click
Cop the Louie bags, hold but forty, crispy blues, rockin' on
Hit your blockin' on, leave your iron fade, prog it up
N****s I put on, but I know she really talking on
Smoke a lot of woods, take your b*tch, milly-rockin' her
[Verse 2: Yung Kage & Shleem Pink!]
We blowing brains out, you know
Oh, cool b*tch, get that out the road
Kn-Knocking up, don't want me stick now she hopping blunts
Pop xans, got cold, I don't feel no love
Automatic with my shooters, wе've just counted up
Two-two, I'm running shots like I'm coming up
Miss mе, I'm way too fast, that sh*t kinda suck
Cutthroat, we taking chains, yeah, we choppin' up
Co-Cool wrists, dead eyes be dancing like I'm outta though
Cat sauce on the bit, told that Post Malone
Cut them b*tch that I don't know, I pop them hitters like Chancellor
Pop that pus*y, we nacking up, hop it in these and light it up
In-In-In-In these days are done
I'd drive a drop top, we acrobat
Porsche Carrera, we called it up
Knocking up, we skurting low
We blowing brains out, oh
Slatt!

[Chorus 2: Schleem Pink! & Kiid Spyro]
Can't feel a damn thing (Slatt)
Can't feel a damn thing no more (Slatt)
Can't feel a damn thing (Yeah, yeah) (Slatt)
Can't feel a damn thing (Yeah, yeah)
[Verse 3: Kiid Spyro]
Glo-glo-glocky in my pocket, test me, I'm gon' f*cking pop it
Shooting with that pocket rocket, don't play with me, trying to stop it
f*ck up on this b*tch, they can't b*tch this down (down)
They can't b*tch this down (down), they can't b*tch this down, down, down
Throw it up, up, up, Audi
She gon' suck, suck, suck, suck, suckety (Bam)
We-We gon' take his motherf*cking chain (Skrrrrt)
I-I-I-I-I don't give a f*ck about a thing
Effin' on me, I'm gon' f*cking aim
Hollow tips b*tch they full of blanks
I can't f*ck with shorty cause she lame (Lame)
Fevies in here bustin' out your brain (Brain)
I can keep on playing all these games (Games)
I can keep on slaying all these gangs (Gang, gang)

[Chorus 3: Shleem Pink!]
Can't feel a damn thing (Slatt)
Can't feel a damn thing no more (Slatt)
Can't feel a damn thing (Slatt)
Can't feel a damn thing no more (Slatt)
Sippin' on the spot
Yeah, pour it to the top