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Bắt đầu làm bài nào

All these punk motherfuckers don't
running their mouth like I won't kick in their door
All these motherfuckers hitting my phone
You think we boys, I never you at one of my shows
All punk motherfuckers don't know
They running their mouth I won't kick in their door
All these punk hitting my phone
You think we boys, I never you at one of my shows

See, I been fucking up my no joke
Tatted my face, my job, went broke
But I loving every day a little more
When you hear that wooden block, you know it's Ghoste
Made in the of what they call Satan
The blade is serrated and
The brain of sedated and heads
to let them think freely again
Put em in an underwater
Better pay your to what I am about to say
Fuck your friends say
Fuck the man say
I been venom off my gums
Getting faded off the of my girl
I cut her on the face, she me "more"
She got on my grandma floor
Bitch, I'm draped in Ghost head to toe
Y'all were sleeping, I don't want your damn
My chick gon' to your damn girl
We tag-teaming like we for the belt
(Lay your soul)

All these punk motherfuckers know
They running their mouth I won't kick in their door
All these punk motherfuckers my phone
You think we boys, I never you at one of my shows
All these punk motherfuckers don't
They running their like I won't kick in their door
All these punk hitting my phone
You think we boys, I seen you at one of my shows