Cult Sag 616 - Black Josh, Milkavelli, Lee Scott

Holy shit, roll me a spliff

I’m too high for hand eye coordination

Cold sagging, toe tagging the corpses in my basement

They’re the fertiliser I use to grow the crops I got waiting

I got cockroaches mating and rats raving under my floorboards

While I’m blazing on my couch smoking a nine bar to a half ounce

Spitting over sixteens in your cypher like I can’t count

Making it rain like I pulled the harp out

They call me the Great Ape, smoking grade A, grade H, break face and some OG

kane it tastes great

Call me King Kush, bow to your heiness

My loud gives teams tonight-ish

Gold finger, the touch of Midas

Moving food 'til I give you nigga writing

Adidas trainers, surrounded my vagina

Bitch asked me for a draw but had cold saw and I denied her

You can’t take draws but I can supply ya, with the Cali kush if you got a tenner

Someone with a fiver

Cult sagging, straight cult sagging laa

Cult sagging, straight cult sagging laa

Cult sagging, straight cult sagging laa

I’m cult sagging yeah, I’m cult sagging

I’m in thot mansion, them hoes creeping

I’m so high in Cult Mountain, my nose bleeding

I toe tag 'em for no reason and I’ve been cold sagging since cold sagging had

no meaning

No sleep 'til I’m O. D'ing, it’s snow season so the cold makes me rush.

No Ian

But O. E'ing, that’s some malt liquor

Now get some Rizla, throw some OG in

Cash rules everything around me, CREAM, get the money 'til I’m feeling like I’m

Saudi

Like, cash rules everything around me, CREAM, get the money, do a hundred whip

it said I’m outy

I wrote this on the Route 66, riding shotgun with a pair of blue lipstick kids

Doing whippets in a German whip

Speaking of German whips, that’s pretty apt since I merked your bitch

Cult sagging, straight cult sagging laa

Cult sagging, straight cult sagging laa

Cult sagging, straight cult sagging laa

I’m cult sagging yeah, I’m cult sagging

Skull fits, wear this BLAH bucket

I was gonna say something that meant something but nah fuck it

I’m cold sag running on the spot, bitch please

And it’s not a pretty one with cherry’s on the top

I’m sitting on me balls like two space hoppers

Lounging, on the front yard while the dogs are growling

At the cops surrounding, downing Vodka frowning

Drowning in a puddle blood

Thug, idiot, several ciggies lit, in his lips

I’m stingey, I don’t even give a shit

A scumbag like mmm, when I’m guzzling Stellas

I like F words and neck birds in front of their fellas

Looking lifeless as the moonlights hitting me

Too right I smoke it through like Hickory

One man gang bang, bitches round and neck 40's

Say me name more time than Rick says Morty’s

Cult sagging, straight cult sagging laa

Cult sagging, straight cult sagging laa

Cult sagging, straight cult sagging laa

I’m cult sagging yeah, I’m cult sagging