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Credits
PERFORMING ARTISTS
City Morgue
Vocals
ZillaKami
Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Junius Rogers
Songwriter
Vinicius Sosa
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Thraxx
Producer
MuddiGold
Mixing Engineer
Lyrics
Thraxx
Ayy, black metal clash in the pit (okay)
When it blast, their heart in abyss (okay)
Make that black metal cause an eclipse (what's up?)
Hands on your back, lay your ass in a basket (what's up?)
Get hit like, yeah, yeah, yeah (woo!)
Get hit like, yeah, yeah, yeah (woo!)
My face is always fucked up (okay)
My teeth is always fucked up (okay)
My knuckles always fucked up (what's up?)
Fuck y'all, I don't talk to y'all (what's up?)
Turn you to puddles and blast away
Pull up, we rob with the mask away
I just might take you to Hell today
I just might take all your breath away
Turn into Satan, they worship me (okay)
Pray that they each better turn to me (okay)
I just might take you to Hell today (yeah)
I just might take all your breath away (what, what?)
Hit that, split that, huh (okay)
Niggas bust, I'm Caligula (damn, damn)
Chip that wig cap, huh (okay)
Niggas chose, I don't know what y'all on
Ayy, black metal clash in the pit (okay)
When it blast, their heart in abyss (okay)
Make that black metal cause an eclipse (what's up?)
Hands on your back, lay your ass in a basket (what's up?)
Get hit like, yeah, yeah, yeah (woo!)
Get hit like, yeah, yeah, yeah (woo!)
Mula!
Put a nigga mouth on the curb
Throwin' dead bodies all out on the curb
Smokin' on opps and the ounce of the herbs
Got my weight up from the ounce of the birds (what?)
All my ex-bitches saying, "I want to be friends still"
See my wrist bust down, cold with the wind chill (splat)
Straight up, I'ma shoot through your windshield
I'ma pull up, I'ma spin you like a windmill
Drop the top on the new Chevrolet
Sipping on Wock, I don't do Perrier
Fucking on ya thot, what I do everyday
Getting to the guap, what I do everyday
I don't need rap, I can move that yay
Coke swimmin' in the pot like a blue stingray
We can fist-fight, we can shoot that fade
My little niggas wanna shoot, broad day
Ayy, black metal clash in the pit (okay)
When it blast, their heart in abyss (okay)
Make that black metal cause an eclipse (what's up?)
Hands on your back, lay your ass in a basket (what's up?)
Get hit like, yeah, yeah, yeah (woo!)
Get hit like, yeah, yeah, yeah (woo!)
Black metal clash in the pit (okay)
When it blast, their heart in abyss (okay)
Make that black metal cause an eclipse (what's up?)
Hands on your back, lay your ass in a basket (what's up?)
Get hit like, yeah, yeah, yeah (woo!)
Get hit like, yeah, yeah, yeah (woo!)
Writer(s): Junius Rogers, Vinicius Sosa, Bouabdallah Nehari
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