Yves St. Moron

Lyrics for Yves St. Moron

Uh Yo, Air Max 360 sweats Had 360 waves on my head for every brush that I had with death But not even death could make me acquiesce BS protect, but that's only if it's factory set I ain't progressed, not even half a step I'm stepping on niggas' necks, niggas think Avirex is a flex It ain't been fresh since the days of Rex in effect Check, check baby, check baby Don't say the stretch, baby The Pullman pullin' bull, you never been on bullshit Bullpen from pimpin' stick to pulpit Pulled the thick pit bull bitch out the wolf's den Wolf of sheep's clothing, homie, this is wool rich Rich crew is Kruger and has the roof on the Cayenne It's translucent, Lucy dreams, ice cream, Celine The way I'm seein', you need a green screen Alexander McQueen, triple beam pistol with the beam Some serious beam, some fried six chicken wings on the swings Back when I was under the wing, it wasn't green Baby cheeks with the peach fuzz underneath Check, mm Check, I said check, baby, check, baby Run off a check, baby Baby 380 for one special lady Leave your avy covered in red gravy These special ed babies could never play me I'm the total package, Saturday smoking jacket Cactus playing pants with the patches From carjacking, trapping, and kidnapping Bitches flatbacking, as my benefactor, nigga been a factor Rappers looking like Magadano on Fear Factor After your spirits descends into the hereafter, you hear the cheers from the rafters Like when Vince is on the Raptors I'm on they bitch ass, they gon' have to ask for skin grafting I been nasty, this ain't just happened haphazardly From hat to the feet, leady haberdashery, uh