Mist

by EsDeeKid

From the album: Rebel

Duration: 02:10

Rebel cover art

Lyrics for Mist

Ay, Ay, EsDee La- La- Lad, I'm riding with your bitch Got a tens in me pocket and a bottle full of Tris Five racks in the bank, put it all up on me wrist Never fucking with a lame, won't be riding in the mist, nah Lad, I'm riding with your bitch Got a tens in me pocket and a bottle full of Tris Five racks in the bank, put it all up on me wrist Never fucking with a lame, won't be riding in the mist, nah Night time, I'm creeping through the mansion Black gems on me neck stay dancing Birds hit me line, spawn kill, stop camping Backstage pass 'cause I'm young and I'm handsome Got long black hair like an emo Drugs all white — albino Rolling the Raws and I fill it with the green, bro Ice on me neck stay cold, Sub-Zero Members only, you won't make it on the guest list Shout loud, make the crowd think I'm reckless Chrome on me wrist, cheque pending for the necklace Young Scouse kid, make it sound like I'm from Texas Rocking like a star, Coke for breakfast Cartier necklace, Kush — I'm obsessed with it Outside, and we're posted with the members Pack landed, telling R kid, "Don't mess with it." We got tons of different flavours, we love getting in Came in the rave, popped pills, and I'm settling Only eighteen, labels screaming, "Gotta get him in." Beef? Know I keep the metal in my hand like wedding ring Ten girls on my body, I'm feeling rich today Ten girls on my body, my girl gon' crash out Put white in my city — it turned to Krakow My girl still gets scared when I turn Snap Maps off in the trap house He's lit, but I ain't clocking him All amped up, stand up — Chris Rocking him Peckish 'til I'm dead, Rick Ross with it Lunchtime, cop Sprite, gotta mix Wok with it La- La- Lad, I'm riding with your bitch Got a tens in me pocket and a bottle full of Tris Five racks in the bank, put it all up on me wrist Never fucking with a lame, won't be riding in the mist, nah Lad, I'm riding with your bitch Got a tens in me pocket and a bottle full of Tris Five racks in the bank, put it all up on me wrist Never fucking with a lame, won't be riding in the mist, nah

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