“Figlio della Morte e di Dio.”

trip hop, electronic, jazz, grunge, synthwave

Lyrics

I’m from Iowa beef ain’t shit to me
Gun Barrel thinks he hard but got rocked by 2 seniors, and he’s in his 30’s,
Barrel in his face and backed out fuckin wiener
Ain’t nobody give a shit about your thug demeanor
Because the people you hang with ain’t gangster neither
All 20 of you folded with double the numbers
If you’s a thug lil buddy why ain’t you pull out the thumper
Just admit bro you scared and only hard to fit in
That’s why you talk all that shit in a city in which you don’t live
And in case you need a reminder,
You’re a cracker too
So anything you say about me
You say about you
hurrr I’m Kellz I know cartels, if you did you wouldn’t be bragging
he ride around with people making fun of the disabled
his crew got ran out of the 515
fled out to the boonies
then to his lil hotel
with some
grannies for some poon because he too rude to pull anything fresh, hear the Grand Canyon breeze between any legs he spreads.
sex workers rock but when they tell you enough. you don’t stop. rapist.

“Machine Gun Kelly es un violador”

“Machine Gun Kelly es un violador”

“Machine Gun Kelly es un violador”

“Machine Gun Kelly es un violador”

statutory,
statutory,

“Machine Gun Kelly es un violador”

“hawk you’re such a fool”
Nah I’m so fuckin corny I play Minecraft in my room, while my 2nd device be tracking everywhere you move!
like I know when you cried back in like 99 when grandma said your grounded cuz you don’t follow rules
now look at you
like it only happened to you
news flash I was abused too
got a pole stuck up my ass at 13 dude
don’t think for a second I won’t hesitate to kill you
there’s a reason you don’t survive much longer in God’s Story, oh boy,
but I’m just some cracker from Des Moines
so I guess I wouldn’t know cuz I’m playing with toys
believe what you want that’s your choice
but don’t cry bitch when I pull up with my noise,
we might be honky trash but we can get it too
and it’s a shame because I put in good word for you
if I didn’t stick my neck out you’d still be in a grave from that killshot you claimed
missed you.
begging us to come get you
if the gang gang had yo damn back
you wouldnt have sat in jail for Jack
the old heads wouldn’t be saying that we smokin that Kelly pack
get it cuz you a country prodigy, crossover King, but you stick out like a trailer in a tornado
you daily dry snitch on your squad
you act like you’re a god
if someone don’t like you it’s suck my knob
but that ain’t how this works
you say the wrong shit
bodied
from the hearse to the dirt
from living and breathing
to screen print on a shirt
on my momma I ain’t fuckin with your drama
stretch you like a fuckin llama
this is white on white crime
fuck you slime
go head and slide
former juvenile felon bitch ill pop yo fuckin melon
who the fuck are you to question
I ain’t stressin
I’m a scholar in this shit
you just a naive 25th year freshman
if you took the time to check the facts you’d know i don’t say this shit to flex man
I’m tellin you to sit down shut up