Over My Dead Body
Lyrics
I just do what the music say
The beat say “kill kill” nigga you should pray
Murder, murder kill kill what the music say
Over-My-Dead-Body
Over my dead body
This ain't god body
This that sip
Talk shit by the bar probably
Frail niggaa acting hard-body
Stick your chest out before they rip your neck out in the jungle, armed robbery
Gimme that
Before that lil millie clap
This that boombap rap
I listen to Biggie tracks with my bottom bitch
The way I roam like Spartacus
No rocket scientist for you to make a dollar flip
Shorty from Romania
Moms in Pennsylvania
Such a lady but
We fight like Wrestlemania
Ante up! (Yea) 1989's own
It takes a little more than liquor to get in my zone
Get on my level trading fists with the devil I'll leave em'
Buried alive make em witness the shovel
I was a rebel slash hit head
Ima cold hearted hot head
This girl with me is drop-dead
Stayed in my lane to long and now I'm swerving
Found myself in 2 beds with 2 virgins
Who's curving? Rock the cradle like Ju Erving
We ain't playing that old SIN for the new sermon
Pretty fly young girl, fell in love with her words and
It feels just like music, one time for Eric Sermon
I'm laid up to The Greatest Of Marvin
The old soul feeding the people, I know that they starving
You gotta be tired of niggas steering you wrong
He leaving you home, You hitting my phone
Playing this little game got you going crazy
Smiling at a nigga on the low you hate me
Still ducking jakes you know snakes get by lately
Only 12 I fucks with is Tom Brady
Ain't a badder bitch in the club than my lady
I want the cherry whatchamacallit that drive crazy, Crazy!
Over my dead body, over my dead body!
I just do what the music say
The beat say “kill kill” nigga you should pray
Murder, murder kill kill what the music say
Over-My-Dead-Body
Over my dead body
This ain't god body
This that sip
Talk shit by the bar probably
Frail niggaa acting hard-body
Stick your chest out before they rip your neck out in the jungle, armed robbery
Gimme that
Before that lil millie clap
This that boombap rap
I listen to Biggie tracks with my bottom bitch
The way I roam like Spartacus
No rocket scientist for you to make a dollar flip
Shorty from Romania
Moms in Pennsylvania
Such a lady but
We fight like Wrestlemania
Ante up! (Yea) 1989's own
It takes a little more than liquor to get in my zone
Get on my level trading fists with the devil I'll leave em'
Buried alive make em witness the shovel
I was a rebel slash hit head
Ima cold hearted hot head
This girl with me is drop-dead
Stayed in my lane to long and now I'm swerving
Found myself in 2 beds with 2 virgins
Who's curving? Rock the cradle like Ju Erving
We ain't playing that old SIN for the new sermon
Pretty fly young girl, fell in love with her words and
It feels just like music, one time for Eric Sermon
I'm laid up to The Greatest Of Marvin
The old soul feeding the people, I know that they starving
You gotta be tired of niggas steering you wrong
He leaving you home, You hitting my phone
Playing this little game got you going crazy
Smiling at a nigga on the low you hate me
Still ducking jakes you know snakes get by lately
Only 12 I fucks with is Tom Brady
Ain't a badder bitch in the club than my lady
I want the cherry whatchamacallit that drive crazy, Crazy!
Over my dead body, over my dead body!
Writer(s): A. Dotel
Copyright(s): Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid
Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind
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