APPALACHIA

[Verse 1: Witchouse 40k]
Cemetery, past full of ghosts
Pull up with a blade, with a scope out
Cock back, got my hand up on your chain to your throat
Bitch, I’m from the jungle, where's the smoke at?
Skull crack, witchy leaving bullets in they bros
Pull-up and I’m dishing them toe tags
A bully of the bandits, I'ma leave them with no mask
Got no hands, smoke a pussy rapper, get blown back
My hands up in his coffin, he not getting his bones back
Ayy
Pull up to your addy with the Glock out
Fifty in the drum, I squeeze the trigger, he get shot down
We pop out
Pulling right up, I see 'em and I call out
“Walkin' out the coffin, I’m about to hold the block down”
Pull up alone, we gon' pop up
Best have that two's on your side whеn you walk up
Extensions all on me, I’m turning the block around
Hе want the smoke wit' the gang, he get shot up

[Verse 2: TWENTYTHREE]
No there’s no time for change
I give no mind to the pain, in the back it’s a stack of decay, I don’t hear the complaints
Wash it now there’s blood up in the paint
Fuck it up and see the body shake, I never needed to relate
Slowly know I’m headed to the grave
Only waiting so I find the shade with a safe and a blade
Run with delay on my brain and I won’t need to work on my aim, know they’re talking bout nothing
Through all the silence, I’m hearing the other side, see I can tell you he’s bluffing
No they ain’t do that
All of the talk on the internet ending with half of him stuck in a blue bag
I think you knew that, where is the truth at?
I need to find a way out of the end I’ve been tying and bringing the noose back, who that?