G-Mo Skee - Human Cloth lyrics

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G-Mo Skee - Human Cloth lyrics

[Chorus] That fur hat is dope, G-mo you a boss And that new trench coat, that sh** is stupid raw Where they sell those at? How much do it cost? b**h my whole f**ing outfit is made out of Human Cloth! (Human cloth?!) Human cloth! (Human cloth?!) Human cloth! (Human cloth.) b**h my outfit is made out of Human Cloth! (Human cloth?!) Human cloth! (Human cloth?!) Human cloth! (Human cloth!) b**h my outfit is made out of Human Cloth! [Verse 1] Lit b**h my outfit is made of dead people, Dressed to k**, fresh to d**h, make your chicken head leave you That Gucci belt make you think our bread equal, you must be retarded, they let the Special Ed teach you I get shipments in packages from the Philippines human traffic 'em and then I put them traps on the guillotine Draw the flesh from the bones on a silk machine, use it to sew a pair of jeans I'm finna stitch the seams You a bum, we don't shop at the same Macy's, them tight clothes got you looking like Wayne Brady I'm Wayne Gacy and my leather face game crazy, this ain't Louis Vuitton this a white b**h named Stacy [Chorus] [Verse 2] I got my outfit from the deep web, you n***as still run around rocking cheap threads I'm steeping out with new clothes every week man, when I need a new wardrobe I leave ya peeps dead What's your nationality, that's what I'm askin', b**h said she was Alaskan, I want that skin Brought her back to my cabin, started stabbin', she wore VANS so she died in the worse fashion I shop at graveyards because I rock cadavers, a lot of rappers think they fresh but they not as dapper I pull up on a flock of b**hes n***a watch them gather, tell that n***a Sway he ain't got the answers (You ain't got the answers, Sway!) [Chorus] [Verse 3] b**h my outfit is a hundred percent h*mosapien, he was h*mos**ual so I strangled him Brought the flesh back to my basement so I can tailor it, make it fit now when I'm on stage I'm looking dangerous I shanked the n***a in his neck and he bled slowly, now I'm in your area wearing your dead homie I rock it at the n***as funeral get up and speak "He was a good man, but my outfit is f**ing sweet." You n***as know what I do with a meat cleaver, butcher knives, chainsaws, pitchforks, and weed eaters? f** your hand me down prada and them weak sneakers, my closet looking like a deep freezer Swag