The Pickup Lyrics – The Neverending Mixtape
Singer: The Neverending Mixtape
Title: The Pickup
I guess we got another pickup
This one’s the victim of a stickup
Three shots to the dome, now that’s a sick pup
And while he’s dying, he might have thoughts of the sip cup
Thoughts of his family he’ll never see again
His senseless murder, sent to a ticker on CNN
The bigger verdict, where for eternity he will spend
The rest of days, sorry this is how we’re meeting, friend
I’m in the business of death, and trust that sh#t is booming
I’m in the business of self, I nevеr do it to em
I don’t consider the wеalth, consider end is looming
Continue holding the belt, I am not a human
They think I’m rolling with a scythe
When really I can be a drunk driver, early night
Or maybe I can be the blunt side of a knife
Getting jammed in your pipe for the wind, something light
Like 100 billion and 0
I guess Jesus counts as a draw, far as I know
I’m sure that we will meet eventually
So just be careful and make sure there’s no event this week
Flashing, shining, all of this from rhyming
Steak stuck in my teeth, issues of fine dining
Flossing my diamonds, meet a model round nine
Flossing filet mignon right outta my canines with a p#ss# hair
Yeah you are what you eat but ain’t no p#ss# here
I got stripes in these streets like a muthaf#ckin parking lot
So I hold the Glock like the block is hot, the block is hot
But it’s not
This Rodeo Drive
Came a long way from holding heat just to stay alive
Give my mama extra money Sundays to pay my tithes
Ay dios mio, ice sunk the ship but my wrist stay que frio
Smelling like weed just for pissing off my PO
New money, aristocratic b#tches love me though
Looking at these haters looking at me, what you want b#tches
Give me the dickens as the plot thickens, ooh
Block is still hot and that heat never dissipate
You really think your own boys won’t participate
You don’t think one of these hoes see a little of your gold
Tell the bros and they come to fill their dinner plate
I won’t spoil it, the ending’s so glorious
Men are so spoiled, think they’re royal
They ain’t loyal to a muthaf#ckin thing
Until reporters with the story hit
Best you can pull is purgatory then
Living lifestyles of the rich and dangerous
Some die with a chain and some die chainless
And I’ve been waiting for a day like this
Someone to play for me for a b#tch and try to take what’s on my wrist
Hey, meet my Anti-b#tch Blaster 5000
Disperse a whole crowd when I decide to start wilding
Now who the f#ck you think is looking like a lick, I’m loaded with a clip
Grabbed my b#tch, the last thing I heard was click
Funny thing, the click, it wasn’t for you
A million ways to die, I guess one was bound to get through
Drive-by for a separate gang entirely
Was standing so mightily
Had built a life in spite of me
Ayo it’s
Another statistic for the ballistics
Few seconds later could miss it, love the logistics
Holding heat just to stay alive
Now I stare into your cold, sedated eyes
Whatcha want, another shot at this
b#tch I’m eponymous
You just wasted your life and now you’re robbed of it
Think about all the points you can have bowed out
I don’t make the plays, just set the stage, bring the crowds out
Live by the gun, feared by the gun
Tears never run when a tyrant hit in lung
Another point for death
Don’t hold your breath
Cause next time you clutch your chest
Your number’s next
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Lyrics The Neverending Mixtape – The Pickup
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