Gotin Û Werger - Blast Off
— ji aliyê Internet Money
"Blast Off" stran û werger. Fêr bibe ka kê ev stran nivîsandiye. Bibînin ka kî çêker û derhênerê vê klîba muzîkê ye. "Blast Off" bestekar, lyrics, aranjman, platformên streaming, û hwd. "Blast Off" stranek e ku li ser Îngilîzî-ê hatiye çêkirin. "Blast Off" ji hêla stranan ve tê gotin Internet Money
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"Blast Off" Lyrics
Gotinên "Blast Off" bi zimanê Îngilîzî hene.
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RIP Juice ????
[Intro: Trippie Redd]
Internet Money, bitch
Hahahaha, Nick, you're stupid
[Chorus: Trippie Redd]
Baby, come and have a blast with me
Do everything I say like your majesty
Fuck with the gang and it be a tragedy
Fuck with my shooters, they in the back with me
[Post-Chorus: Trippie Redd]
Fuck with me baby, come get this bag with me
Been alone for a minute, that shit been dragging me
Craving your love, it's heart-attacking me
Tryna get in that pussy, baby, that mac and cheese
[Verse 1: Trippie Redd]
I cannot show these bitches no sympathy
Or these niggas, they simps and they hella bitch to me
I was just fortunate, got the remedy
Fuck that bitch and then dip, I got them chips to receive, yeah
[Chorus: Trippie Redd & Juice WRLD]
Baby, come and have a blast with me
Do everything I say like your majesty
Fuck with the gang and it be a tragedy
Fuck with my shooters, they in the back with me (Uh)
[Verse 2: Juice WRLD]
You picked that knife up and you stabbin' me
Wish it was a paper cut, but it's a gash, I bleed out
And the way you keep harassin' me
It's a shame this the way that it has to be, oh
Uh, yeah, time is of the essence
You know damn well you bring hell, I should call a reverend
Devil horns on a angel, still haven't learned my lesson (Uh)
We're a mess and our life's a wreck (Hey)
Toxic, toxic, toxic
The most beautiful things grow old and start rottin'
I should've turned away when I found out you were demonic
Let's be honest, you're the devil's daughter
Say hey to your father, uh, he owe me twenty dollars
We gon' run through hell with like twenty-hundred choppers
We gon' give 'em hell and I put that on my mama
Me and Trippie Redd boolin' back in the Bahamas
[Chorus: Trippie Redd]
Baby, come and have a blast with me
Do everything I say like your majesty
Fuck with the gang and it be a tragedy
Fuck with my shooters, they in the back with me
[Post-Chorus: Trippie Redd]
Fuck with me baby, come get this bag with me
Been alone for a minute, that shit been dragging me
Craving your love, it's heart-attacking me
Tryna get in that pussy, baby, that mac and cheese
[Outro: Juice WRLD]
Gang, gang, gang
Probably fuckin' your mama
Three K on my wrist like André
Servin' like entrée
Ha, huh, you dig? You dig? You dig?