SUICIDEBOYS – Carrollton Lyrics

Carrollton Lyrics by SUICIDEBOYS

[Intro – Juicy J]
Play me some of that Suicide pimping man

[Verse 1 – LIL CUT THROAT]
You motherfuckers pitiful, I’m too sick of you
I’m a walking visual, you boys refillable
Unforgivable
Once you cross me, hoe
Now you a m———–g stain to Lil Cut Throat “pow!”
Let the gun bang
Nuts hang, drug game ain’t the same
“Savage” tatted on my face
Grey ape
Reason why we hotbox
F–k a badge, f–k a cop even if the K hot
Watch me bust on any block
Northside knotty
Scope on the shotty
Semi blow ya’ body
Tony gripping on the Tommy, b—h
I bite the head off a bat like I’m Ozzy
You got a problem m———-r? Come and try me
I’m nothing like what you punk boys wanna embody
Norf, Norf, East Side *59
Tony gripping Tommy
F–k around end up with your body, autopsy
I be that walking zombie, bath salts
Eating bodies
Three choppas and a shotty shooting everybody
Cigarette wet
Bumping Boosie Badazz
On them drugs, jiggin’
Jaws locked—clinching
Trigger finger itching if you think I’m kidding
Smoke leaking from the sticky that we smoking, boy
F–k a Backwood, Swisher’s what I use, boy
Smoke what I choose, do what I wanna do
M——–k you and “Ruby–” your punk friends too

[Verse 2 – RUBY DA CHERRY]
Ruby blunt lit lungs itch, b—h, I like the sting
Smoking potent thinking I’m the chosen one, b—h, I’m a king
I can hear my dead homies sing
Now my eyes always hurting, wiping tears with diamond rings, yeah, aye
Hol’ up f-ckboy, who the f–k said we cool?
Man, I quit smoking with hypebeasts back in 2002
What it do?
M———-r I’ma fool
Ruby Da Cherry is ghouling with goblins
If you got a problem, then you better move
From the womb to the tomb
Busting out early, busting out soon
Black out the city, I’m back on them 30s
In ’bout 20 minutes we’ll be on the moon, uh
Drugs got me f—-d up, s—s got me drugged up, f–k
Slap my face against a pill to crush it up
Government ID helps me get high
Seeing stars in the mirror like I’m looking with a bright beam
Lime green paint but the rims looking Spike Lee
Mighty sloppy might be cocky
Am I in the right scene?
Highly unlikey, and I’m willing to f—–g bet
Leave a p—y wet then I leave a p—y wet
I’m a f—–g vet
I’m a m———–g threat
G*59 the set
G*59 will make you sweat
“I don’t give a f–k” is my f—–g epithet
Lace up my Nike Decades, meet me at Heaven’s Gates
7th Ward by the lake ’till my death

[Outro]
He’ll come off of your drunken stupor from Burman Street, Saturday night! Get up in time to go to mass on Sunday morning—and you tell God you’re sorry for your drunkenness, only to go back out tonight and get wasted again