Swerve

(gotta have style) Motha fucka was right You gotta do it with style Bet you think you wild You smoking high Go touch some grass Nothing on the "qwerty" I can't see Talking of a time just to puke some rhymes City boys ain't nothing but a broken frame for the dying… Inside? Bear's in the …ah Bear's on sight This is my eyes This is my hears It's in my blood now I see him everyday even though my love's a world away I love it I hate it I love you I hate you Swerved out The motha fucking rooster Bitch, you're not good on paper We here to get burned proper (yessir, yessir) Swerved out The motha fucking rooster Bitch, you're not good on paper We here to get burned proper (yessir, yessir) It doesn't make sense Even I cannot get it But seeing them red dots glowing Just kept me going I won't shut the f*ck up And Rou never turn down the 808 Cause not only the tracks but both of us are peaking with style I want your soul I need your soul I want your soul I will eat your soul Swerved out The motha fucking rooster Bitch, you're not good on paper We here to get burned proper (yessir, yessir) Swerved out The motha fucking rooster Bitch, you're not good on paper We here to get burned proper (yessir, yessir) Taste it Hear it Kill it F*ck it Lift it Live it Want it Suck it Duck it Plug it Smoke it Sip it Spit on it Kill it Fucking kill it Fucking do what you gotta do Live it Want it Suck it F*ck me F*ck it F*ck you