Supreme Codeine - Mello Music Group, Miz Korona, Quelle Chris

Well I’ll be damned, guess who escaped outta the convent

I must be a nun 'cause you ain’t fuckin' with what I spit

These virgin raps’ll murder cats

You think you hot shit?

Well watch these turds collapse

I flush number 2s and send 'em to the porcelain gods

You end up on the news if you think of touchin' my squad

You be wavin' spirit fingers to your family, so bring it on

I don’t mean art school when I say the heat is drawn

Niggas get their cheetah on, sprintin'

If it’s too hot then get out of Hell’s kitchen

I don’t mean the restaurant, I’m in the upper echelon

Of these wack rappers, they about to get their stretcher on

I stick a fork in these potato heads, turn 'em to potato wedge

I’m out to get the butter with the toast if you makin' bread

With that low fat, y’all niggas low fat

Send you to the angels, Shwayze, where ghost at

Supreme codeine, c-c-codeine

C-c-codeine, c-c-co

Supreme codeine, c-c-codeine

C-c-codeine, c-c-co

Rap niggas, need to be lookin' at the front door, you wack niggas

Niggas stylin'

Wave’s like audio files

Waves like rivers, Jack Ripper, you hear the alleyway snickers

Crooked laughter

Niggas lookin' like slave masters

They asked us if we could pass spliff

We was like, «Of course, we have to»

Rattle the rafters, tip over the boat

They was like, «Don't look the chef in the eye»

And pay the pastor, definite fly

Cold case, closed casket, the game isn’t alive

Until witch doctors came in this bitch and zombified it

If you ain’t fresh with the lines

Toodoloo, expose mass niggas with rhymes like Scooby Doo

Supreme codeine, c-c-codeine

C-c-codeine, c-c-co

Supreme codeine, c-c-codeine

C-c-codeine, c-c-co

Yeah hopscotch

Kids swingin', listen close, you hear the blocks talk

Kingpins be makin' deals and while the cops watch

Just tryna take flight

In this cold world we all for breakin' ice just like some rock salt

Speakin' of the language, hot heads let the Glock talk

Gunpowder play

Stumpin' niggas, makin' wine out some sour grapes

Minus the old barrels

Steel belts

Vivid enough to give you chills like some slushees

Puttin' chrome where it’s rusty

Makin' bangers outta somethin' dusty

Off the scuzzy, kitten like a hammy yeah these yappas can’t touch me

Full contact, yeah it’s like I’m playin' rugby

Trust me, I’m takin' trips 'cross the interstate

Just to build with greats

Fools fuel me, I can feel the hate

Mothafuckas

Supreme codeine, c-c-codeine

C-c-codeine, c-c-co

Supreme codeine, c-c-codeine

C-c-codeine, c-c-co