Hi-Fi
I slide by coming at ya in Hi-Fi, WHAT UP
Tryna see if you pussies got nine lives, PULL UP
Everytime I don't feast, I fine dine turn ya
Corpse to bread, turn ya blood into wine
Mr. Disinfected heart pumping garbage, still clogging my veins
I remember nights of loneliness and day full of pain
With the shadows I would battle till I hemorrhage my brain
Synthetic blunts had me daze for days
I would succumb to my weakness, crazed from the drinking
Locked in a mode, no control overthinking
Weight up on my shoulder, cannot carry it no more
Ears on mute and my ears on slow-mo
You wouldn't **** with the one they call
You wouldn't **** with the one they call
Bones, the guy with the microphone
Straight out the 517 zone
You wouldn't **** with the one they call
You wouldn't **** with the one they call
Bones, the guy with the microphone
Straight out the 517 zone
You want me to keep going?
Alright
So I was chilling on the corner, and what else?
I was rolling up a blunt, and what else?
Said I was chilling on the corner, and what else?
Said I was rolling up a blunt, and what else?
Bones, the guy with the microphone