Drink to the dead all you still alive We shall join them in good time Should you go crossin' that silvery brook It's best to leap before you look Drink
. Drink to the dead all you still alive We shall join them, in good time. Should you go crossing that silvery brook, It's best to leap before you look. Drink
Translation: Clutch. Drink To The Dead.
I puff cigars and drink Cristal? If this is heaven to me is this considered heavenly? Can I still touch lives answer they 'What's and whys' Make sure everybody in my fam' clutch
a hug you gon' pop up a slug Drinking Remy on the block, gotta bust the glock When the Henny hit the chest, busting Smith & Wess Fuck the discussion, I'm busting 'em all, clutching
, I drink the blood of the unborn Returning to my grave, dragging my blood drained prey My body burns from the light, sleeping until night In my clutch
cities secrets buried beneath In this campaign of vice, drinking song's a reprise A slow blur existence, wading knee deep in sin Clutch at the ulcer,
game, this rap game... Verse 2 I bet ya lovin me (? ? ), drink and drown in my own iniquity, But fuck that, I'm gonna rap till y'all get sick of me, And clutch
force-fed your own flesh If you don't eat up, you're truly dead meat Legs turned to stumps, bloody drinks gargled in clumps In this case you really are
high in the hills, comes out to honor the dead. Families somberly walk through the town, they build altars and pray. Clean the tombs and clutch rosaries
as a gamble living in the rotten apple, yo where every corner is rotten to all my niggas rest in peace, see you gone but not forgotten now my main wifey, dead
?) too wasted to drive Either way I've arrived to bless this place with my vibe Yeah right, my vibe ain't even cool I sit in the corner and drink until
gamble Living in the rotten apple yo where every corner is rotten To all my niggas rest in peace to see you gone but not forgotten Now my main wife dead
This rap game, this rap game I bet you rather me drink and drown in my own iniquity But fuck that, I?ma rap 'til you all get sick of me And clutch my
on his groceries When they aren?t telling stories they are multiplying grossly On the lawn Let 'em loiter Never let 'em spawn The aberrations have been drinking
hybrid plant of fabrics I deemed practical, now is you is or is you ain't compatible? I feel THE wind in my opinions plus hyper clutch TO Crush one's
gamble And living in the rotten apple, yo where every corner is rotten To all my niggas rest in peace to see you gone but not forgotten Now my main wife, dead
