Rusty Chains Lyrics

[Verse 1: Ghostemane]
See I been kickin' it with my homie Scoob, it's half past four
He rollin a blunt and I'm sittin there thinkin about how life gets old
Sometimes all I really wanna do is disappear in a cloud of black smoke
And then reappear like Houdini
With no feelins, no feelins to show
And I got these chains
Got these rusty chains around my ankles
And on the other end, I see Satan pullin me as I dangle
Down down
Into the unknown abyss
And I'm wishin I could just come back one more time so I could settle shit
But I can't
So jump on in the fire is great
So many Mothaf*ckas told me I would end up in this lake
For loading a 9 millimeter into my Glock and then to my brain
But shouts out to Aleister Crowley, yo writing is keepin me sane

[Verse 2: RAMIREZ]
Now take caution cause I'm killin bustas
With a Glock 45
Ramirez in the cut go run and hide
f*ckin wit me and it be yo demise
Triple six is was I'm reppin
Creepin out that f*ckin dungeon
Schema Posse, G*59
You better start to count yo blessins
As I kill you when I pulls up inside of my chevy thang
Smoked out loced out
I'm steady gankin on them bustas mane
Pullin out the street sweeper
I got ana off my chest
With any busta mothaf*cka who be tryna test
My nuts not givin a f*ck I'm f*ckin shit up
Knuckin and buckin I'm servin these suckas
I'm whipin these Glocks so be ready to run
Cause I'm on the hunt
Choppin bitches heads off
Throw em inside of the shadow, bitch
Aim yo Glock so f*ckin quick cause I'm burnin up yo body bitch
Bitch
Bitch
Bitch
Bitch
Bitch
Bitch
[Outro: Ghostemane & RAMIREZ]
I been kickin' it with my homie Scoob, it's half past four
He rollin a blunt and I'm sittin there thinkin about how life gets old
Sometimes all I really wanna do is disappear in a cloud of black smoke
And then reappear like Houdini
With no feelins, no feelins to show
And I got these chains
Got these rusty chains around my ankles
And on the other end, I see Satan pullin me as I dangle
Down
Now take caution cause I'm killin bustas
With a Glock 45
Ramirez in the cut go run and hide
f*ckin wit me and it be yo demise
Triple six is was I'm reppin
Creepin out that f*ckin dungeon
Schema Posse, G*59
You better start to count yo blessins
As I kill you when I pulls up inside of my chevy thang
Smoked out loced out
I'm steady gankin on them bustas mane
Pullin out the street sweeper
I got ana off my chest
With any busta mothaf*cka who be tryna test
Test
Test
Test
Test

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