Issue No 130 I D G A F Lyrics

Feat. King Los

It's hip-hop, nigga
Trick a nigga's rims,
And put them on my back

Still ain't treading my religion
My Christianity, got my main bitch
In Christian, plutone, pray for me!
Wear my crosses hard bit, cold hearted,
Crucified, both of my wristes with diamonds
I'm on suicide
Watch ben look like a rear gold can
Red gray and blie, like the helmet on Gron Sanders
These rappers flip flop, and I don't do no looney sandals
Hard to bring bread with niggas,
When they got that tickle madness
Shot the corpse and shot (???) let them dice roll
It's the night in Vegas, tonight might put a price
On my soul!
7 Jordans, 7 jeans. 7 grams might suffice since the age of 17
Dirty hea d rimmie shows, shots out to the head
It's money.com, money sign up in my inbox
In the name of Satan, dropped it high
In order to feed my belly, I cut my weed from inside out
Drift from young and wrestles to young hard and reckless
So I ain't write this rhyme, I text it, you all get the message?
For me and those girls, so gross, ew, I think I feel infected
I don't give a fuck, bra, no protection
Insane speed, dealing like I'm training
Bitch, I'm double coughing,