Includes unlimited streaming of Rua 29
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lyrics
Hitchu wit’ a forty-ounce, pour it in ya shorty mouth. Niggas want beef, we gon’ treat it like a Porterhouse. Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaao, back to the grill again! Rock a fisherman hat, like Gilligan.
Gilligan.
Mad laid-back, but he’s militant. Pat Sajak..., on Helium...
Murder bad vibes, affiliated mad tribes. Get lit, blow the spot like a gas line. On my cash grind, mash if she’s mad fine. Mad wine, wit’ Madeline.
She tell calm down, but I’d rather bomb now. He a King, and he came for his Prom Crown. Big City, but he came from a small town. Light-bearer, but he one with the dark styles.
He got his chain snatched, could’ve made the pain last. Like a painter, turning windows into stained glass. My niggas spray, wipe you out like AJAX. That’s straight facts..., break backs...
Take cash...
A delightfully bananas EP from this collective that’s glitchy and stuttery and brain-bending; drum & bass meets the cut-up aesthetic. Bandcamp New & Notable Jul 30, 2022