Lyrics Bukshot – Blood on My Chucks

Blood on My Chucks Lyrics – Bukshot

Singer: Bukshot
Title: Blood on My Chucks

I think they get it now (now)
What they f#cking with (with)
I can smell they fear (fear)
Ain’t that something b#tch

I’m the alien reaper like Sigourney Weaver
Beat the drum of death (death), street sweeper (street sweeper)
Ain’t got nothing on me, I came back and brought my cronies
Helter Skelter sh#t (shit), you ain’t scared then show me

Meet my dead homie, Mr. Grey and R.O.C
Blood dripping off my chucks, ain’t no make-believe
Jason mask, but you already know that
You ain’t got to ask M.O.B. and Ninjas that’s a cold fact

Next door neighbors comе up missing in your cul-de-sac (sac)
That’s an imprint to killers, Zodiac
Blood on my chucks
Shotgun offs

I don’t give a f#ck
Blood on my chucks
Blocka blocka
Artillеry shocker

Blocka blocka
Die m#th*rf#ck*r
Blood in my cup
Drink it all up

Going f#cking nuts
Blood on my chucks
Blocka blocka
Artillery shocker

Blocka blocka
Die m#th*rf#ck*r
Blood’s on my nunchucks
Swing for your head what

Stalk you with my kicks bruh
What’s the brand like leather chucks
Roll with the homies on purpose to destroy
All competition don’t exist or deploy

Missiles at your whole camp (camp)
Bit ’em like we all vamp (vamp)
Pires are desired solve, our hunger’s got us so amped (amped)
The crew is so ghoulish

Move cause we foolisg
Live in the ruins where your mind will go through it
Insane, yes we are (are)
Body’s an avatar (tar)

Display it in the park (park) where the dead roams heart (heart)
Beat is pumping fast, better scram before we hit you in yo dome with this chuck then wipe the blood from my kick b#tch
Blood on my chucks
Shotgun offs

I don’t give a f#ck
Blood on my chucks
Blocka blocka
Artillery shocker

Blocka blocka
Die m#th*rf#ck*r
Blood in my cup
Drink it all up

Going f#cking nuts
Blood on my chucks
Blocka blocka
Artillery shocker

Blocka blocka
Die m#th*rf#ck*r
I got yo blood on my chucks and yo forehead looking like cold cuts
Pistol-whip it till yo skull blow up

b#tch you getting no love
Drag yo body face down through the road (road)
And stumbled till there’s scuff marks on the soles (yeah)
Gotta let ’em know so I keep a case loaded ready and set to blast (blast)

With the aim of first class (ha)
Getting the last laugh
With the knife out, happens so fast
When I stab and I slash, my chucks in blood I leave a path

All pro blueprints, or star shoe-prints
All up over your clothes, see it was foolish (yeah)
You try to test and dead man who ain’t got sh#t to lose (nope)
And quick to get some blood on his shoes and make the news (now)

Blood on my chucks
Shotgun offs
I don’t give a f#ck
Blood on my chucks

Blocka blocka
Artillery shocker
Blocka blocka
Die m#th*rf#ck*r

Blood in my cup
Drink it all up
Going f#cking nuts
Blood on my chucks

Blocka blocka
Artillery shocker
Blocka blocka
Die m#th*rf#ck*r
Find more lyrics at lyrics.jspinyin.net

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Lyrics Bukshot – Blood on My Chucks

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You can purchase their music thru 
Amazon Music or Apple Music
Disclosure: As an Amazon Associate and an Apple Partner, we earn from qualifying purchases