MISS THE RAGE Remix

[Intro: Shleem Pink!]
Just like this shit
Let's fuck this shit
Baby, blow my brains out
Baby, blow my- slatt!

[Chorus 1: Shleem Pink!]
Can't feel a damn thing (Slatt)
Can't feel a damn thing no more (Slatt)
Can't feel a damn thing (Slatt)
Can't feel a damn thing no more
Sip, sip, sip, sip, sip sippin' on the spot
Yeah, pour it to the top (Codeine!)
Yeah, bad bitch on my cock
Counting money, never stop, yeah
Baby, blow my- slatt!
Can't feel a damn thing (Slatt)
Can't feel a damn thing no more (Slatt)
Can't feel a damn thing (Slatt)

[Verse 1: XANAKIN SKYWOK]
N****s on they fuck shit, let 'em drum hit
Bussin', I-I ain't never love a bitch, so fuck this
It's just more than that, you two been playing to rob, but don't cliff
You a dumb shit, and you bitch be done, but don't click
Cop the Louie bags, hold but forty, crispy blues, rockin' on
Hit your blockin' on, leave your iron fade, prog it up
N****s I put on, but I know she really talking on
Smoke a lot of woods, take your bitch, milly-rockin' her

[Verse 2: Yung Kage & Shleem Pink!]
We blowing brains out, you know
Oh, cool bitch, get that out the road
Kn-Knocking up, don't want me stick now she hopping blunts
Pop xans, got cold, I don't feel no love
Automatic with my shooters, wе've just counted up
Two-two, I'm running shots like I'm coming up
Miss mе, I'm way too fast, that shit kinda suck
Cutthroat, we taking chains, yeah, we choppin' up
Co-Cool wrists, dead eyes be dancing like I'm outta though
Cat sauce on the bit, told that Post Malone
Cut them bitch that I don't know, I pop them hitters like Chancellor
Pop that pussy, we nacking up, hop it in these and light it up
In-In-In-In these days are done
I'd drive a drop top, we acrobat
Porsche Carrera, we called it up
Knocking up, we skurting low
We blowing brains out, oh
Slatt!

[Chorus 2: Schleem Pink! & Kiid Spyro]
Can't feel a damn thing (Slatt)
Can't feel a damn thing no more (Slatt)
Can't feel a damn thing (Yeah, yeah) (Slatt)
Can't feel a damn thing (Yeah, yeah)

[Verse 3: Kiid Spyro]
Glo-glo-glocky in my pocket, test me, I'm gon' fucking pop it
Shooting with that pocket rocket, don't play with me, trying to stop it
Fuck up on this bitch, they can't bitch this down (down)
They can't bitch this down (down), they can't bitch this down, down, down
Throw it up, up, up, Audi
She gon' suck, suck, suck, suck, suckety (Bam)
We-We gon' take his motherfucking chain (Skrrrrt)
I-I-I-I-I don't give a fuck about a thing
Effin' on me, I'm gon' fucking aim
Hollow tips bitch they full of blanks
I can't fuck with shorty cause she lame (Lame)
Fevies in here bustin' out your brain (Brain)
I can keep on playing all these games (Games)
I can keep on slaying all these gangs (Gang, gang)

[Chorus 3: Shleem Pink!]
Can't feel a damn thing (Slatt)
Can't feel a damn thing no more (Slatt)
Can't feel a damn thing (Slatt)
Can't feel a damn thing no more (Slatt)
Sippin' on the spot
Yeah, pour it to the top