The Regime - It's Dark lyrics

(Verse) Powder frosty, whacks game whip like toffee I’m deep in this sh**, call me Master Doffy I’m an Akron with the act, pour another bossy White cup, 4 AM, you may think it’s coffee Black Caesar, my father moving reefer So much loud in my corner, I ain’t talkin speakers I bump ba** like it was 85, I won’t stop trappin I feel like shows 85 girl, don’t stop rappin n***a The game is f**ed up but I move more weight than a motherf**in dump truck Touchdown in yo city with that P Diddy Slip satar, run em off in 1950 Bust down in VMA, some mayday bands So much work in them flags, act like aluminum cans I’m blowin kush clouds, chyeah, moving kush pounds Easy money, Regime Mob, we the town sponsored links (Hook) It’s dark and n***a hell is hot So is that mayonnaise jar in that rusty ol pot G I’m standin in the kitchen, floors ain’t never mopped And the windows can’t open ‘cus the paint got em locked I’m whippin so much dope that my clothes smell like raw I’m feelin like sho cold, wiper rims dropped I’m feelin like a mobster, I’m feelin like a dog I’m feelin like a king, you lookin like a pawn n***a (Verse) Yuk, step your cook game up I’m in the kitchen whippin those, call me Wolfgang punk Ragged with The Regime medallion, too chained up The coup change up, push a bu*ton, the roof came up Gucci framed up, Loubrettons, my shoe game up I’m putting paint where n***as ain’t, step yo hoop game up, boom The mob in the room, two things tucked I turned yo dues to pyroos, get yo crew flamed up Bang, your T red, I put yo face on a black shirt Your body in a casket, you’re riding a black hearse Perform this rap sh**, I’m a stone to trap first Before I sold bricks I was pushin that crack verse Work, I’m flippin cakes like a splash landin Send it to the A, Arizona, Atlanta Arkansas, Alabama, Austin, Alaska OG in that master, fly as f**, NASA (Hook) It’s dark and n***a hell is hot So is that mayonnaise jar in that rusty ol pot G I’m standin in the kitchen, floors ain’t never mopped And the windows can’t open ‘cus the paint got em locked I’m whippin so much dope that my clothes smell like raw I’m feelin like sho cold, wiper rims dropped I’m feelin like a mobster, I’m feelin like a dog I’m feelin like a king, you lookin like a pawn n***a (Verse) Imperial, murder is stereo, lyrical spirit toast Leave you in critical, my scenarios After the burial, the crime rate increases My mind state of peace, I let my hair grow like I’m black Jesus Dope like crack pieces, I ball em out like athletes I done read that 3 times since last week Rock rock, rockin high performance Homie tell me something good, I’m all ears like Martin Lawrence I’m sick like a witch doctor, I piss vodka and sh** acid I’m Charles Manson mixed with Big Poppa I spit up with the whip the color of peach cobbler Align n***as to f** up like Rich Lawler My strip powder, we flip powder I got powder burns on my face, cuz I spit flames to 6th power Yo b**h ours, we switch cowards, you’re still shocked Your eyes closed It’s dark livin hell as hot (Hook) It’s dark and n***a hell is hot So is that mayonnaise jar in that rusty ol pot G I’m standin in the kitchen, floors ain’t never mopped And the windows can’t open ‘cus the paint got em locked I’m whippin so much dope that my clothes smell like raw I’m feelin like sho cold, wiper rims dropped I’m feelin like a mobster, I’m feelin like a dog I’m feelin like a king, you lookin like a pawn n***a (Verse) Yea, I’m feelin like Hoovy, 18 mercato Scale full of fightin irish, no pascato Like Lou Holts, callin the blitz They messed up with on the field, you holdin them bricks okay Just call me Dante cuz now I’m out back Crocodiles and koalas, no new jags 100 racks for the I love Lucy MG with Carla, que pasa Uzzi? Mr. Dirtbag, Dank Sinatra The ghet clapped, the wet pack, weak imposters chyeah You know the Dragon Gans, that’s the mob handle Double back, makin sure we blew up they candles It’s a wrap, your curtain call is ASAP Wrist rocky, Balboa, club with lane, take that n***a, I said take that Chyeah (Hook) It’s dark and n***a hell is hot So is that mayonnaise jar in that rusty ol pot G I’m standin in the kitchen, floors ain’t never mopped And the windows can’t open ‘cus the paint got em locked I’m whippin so much dope that my clothes smell like raw I’m feelin like sho cold, wiper rims dropped I’m feelin like a mobster, I’m feelin like a dog I’m feelin like a king, you lookin like a pawn n***a