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• Artiste: $uicideBoy$
• Titre: Champagne Face
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Check the clock, we're running out of time You can run but you cannot hide Check the clock, we're running out of time You can run but you cannot hide (Good to beam up, Scotty) Check the clock, we're running out of time You can run but you cannot hide Check the clock, we're running out of time You can run but you cannot hide Check the clock, we're running out of time You can run but you cannot hide Check the clock, we're running out of time (Ah-ah) You can run but you cannot hide (A'ight, a'ight, a'ight) Please check the time (Ah) Please check the clock (Yeah) It's time to rock, this shit on lock (Bitch) Slid with the mops Don't reach for that water, you'll get popped I'm up at the top, dolo no flock Still in the way, I need all of the guap Still in my bag, but I need a big box It ain't gon' work 'cause a nigga too hot Movin', whoa, holdin', whoa Way too T'd, might crash the Rolls Outta my body, I still ain't gon fold That bitch actin' right, I might put her in gold White on her toes, and some white up her nose (Bitch) Pints on the floor, please leave me alone I move with a fleet, you def can't get the low (Yeah) Popped out with the rocket and blew up the store (Bad shit!) Check the clock, we're running out of time (Yeah, okay) Wasting my time, might as well of stole the rollie, burnin' big blunts Breakin' glass, I might summon the Holy Ghost (In the name of the Father) Slowly smokin', nose is sloping dope Thousand thoughts at once and now I'm focused Feelin' atrocious (Yeah, yeah) Feel like provoking these hoes into chokin' each other I'm hopin' I pick the right one, because on is a buffer The other ones fucking nuts, but I think that I might love her I'm willing to suffer, I'm willing to give anything a try, at least once If I like it, it'll be months before I see the fucking sun And check the clock or ask the time Check the clock, we're running out of time (Three finger, six digits for the gang) Smoking Swisher blunts, ridin', middle finger up Residue stuck in my nose, go… and I get high as fuck Blicky toys, we greys R us, got my bitches on angel dust (Wetto) Grip my pistol while she sucking for a hoe I got no trust Call a doc, Slick going out his mind Forgis on the Benz, floating like a poltergeist 'Til I die, it's GreyFiveNine Hundred dollar bills, snorting thousand dollar lines Check the clock, we're running out of time You can run but you cannot hide Check the clock, we're running out of time You can run but you cannot—