Case # 2019124, Pt. 2 Lyrics

Bitch we ridin' low, and we know it's time to do it

Want your fresh meat, torture is therapeutic

Feeling all alone, you know that we coming through here

Creeping down your block, pull up to your spot, pop the trunk

We won't ever stop

Keep on makin' bodies drop

You know that when shit get hot

You won't see my face a lot

Take it to the top

No more rocks

Only bops

Fuck the ops

Trustin' thots

Gets you shot

You touch me bitch gets your hands cut off

I have been abused, and I think it's clear to see that

Introverted kid who has always been a reject

Rather hurt himself than hurt another's feelings

He's been broken, hate rebuilt him, now you'll feel the way I'm feelin'

Razor to your wrists

Got the steel up to your temple

Well come on pussy boy

Don't let them demons get you

Finger on the trigger

Eyes are swollen

Blood is flowin'

Gun is loaded

Set in motion

End it now your life means fuckin' nothin'