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Mist
EsDeeKid/Rico Ace
Popularity ยท Low
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๐ฌ๐ง English ยท Original
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Lyrics
Original
Translation
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Ay, Ay, EsDee
La- La- Lad, I'm riding with your bitch
Got a tens in me pocket and a bottle full of Tris
Five racks in the bank, put it all up on me wrist
Never fucking with a lame, won't be riding in the mist, nah
Lad, I'm riding with your bitch
Got a tens in me pocket and a bottle full of Tris
Five racks in the bank, put it all up on me wrist
Never fucking with a lame, won't be riding in the mist, nah
Night time, I'm creeping through the mansion
Black gems on me neck stay dancing
Birds hit me line, spawn kill, stop camping
Backstage pass 'cause I'm young and I'm handsome
Got long black hair like an emo
Drugs all white โ albino
Rolling the Raws and I fill it with the green, bro
Ice on me neck stay cold, Sub-Zero
Members only, you won't make it on the guest list
Shout loud, make the crowd think I'm reckless
Chrome on me wrist, cheque pending for the necklace
Young Scouse kid, make it sound like I'm from Texas
Rocking like a star, Coke for breakfast
Cartier necklace, Kush โ I'm obsessed with it
Outside, and we're posted with the members
Pack landed, telling R kid, "Don't mess with it."
We got tons of different flavours, we love getting in
Came in the rave, popped pills, and I'm settling
Only eighteen, labels screaming, "Gotta get him in."
Beef? Know I keep the metal in my hand like wedding ring
Ten girls on my body, I'm feeling rich today
Ten girls on my body, my girl gon' crash out
Put white in my city โ it turned to Krakow
My girl still gets scared when I turn Snap Maps off in the trap house
He's lit, but I ain't clocking him
All amped up, stand up โ Chris Rocking him
Peckish 'til I'm dead, Rick Ross with it
Lunchtime, cop Sprite, gotta mix Wok with it
La- La- Lad, I'm riding with your bitch
Got a tens in me pocket and a bottle full of Tris
Five racks in the bank, put it all up on me wrist
Never fucking with a lame, won't be riding in the mist, nah
Lad, I'm riding with your bitch
Got a tens in me pocket and a bottle full of Tris
Five racks in the bank, put it all up on me wrist
Never fucking with a lame, won't be riding in the mist, nah
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