Internet Money – Blast Off Ft. Juice Wrld & Trippie Redd | Song Review & Details

Internet Money Blast Off Feat. Juice Wrld & Trippie Redd MP3 DOWNLOAD

Download Free “Internet Money – Blast Off Feat. Juice Wrld & Trippie Redd” MP3 AUDIO | MP4, Lyrics & Skull 320kbps Music On Thinknews

Internet Money Feat. Juice Wrld & Trippie Redd produces another trending song titled “Blast Off” and it’s right here for your fast Mp3 Download.

Internet Money – Blast Off Feat. Juice Wrld & Trippie Redd is solely free for your MP3 DOWNLOAD at “Thinknews”

Add Internet Money Blast Off Feat. Juice Wrld & Trippie Redd to your music tracks and enjoy!.

Listen & Download Internet Money – Blast Off Feat. Juice Wrld & Trippie Redd MP3 Below:

DOWNLOAD MP3

LYRICS

Internet Money, bitch
Hahahaha, Nick, you’re stupid

Baby, come and have a blast with me
Do everything I say like your majesty
Fuck with the gang and it be a tragedy
Fuck with my shooters, they in the back with me

Fuck with me baby, come get this bag with me
Been alone for a minute, that shit been dragging me
Craving your love, it’s heart-attacking me
Tryna get in that pussy, baby, that Mac and Cheese

I cannot show these bitches no sympathy
Who’re these niggas? They simps and they hella bitch to me
I was just fortunate, got the remedy
Fuck that bitch and then dip, I got them chips to receive, yeah

Baby, come and have a blast with me
Do everything I say like your majesty
Fuck with the gang and it be a tragedy
Fuck with my shooters, they in the back with me (Uh)

You picked that knife up and you stabbin’ me (Uh)
Wish it was a paper cut, but it’s a gash, I bleed out
In a way, you keep harassin’ me
It’s a shame this the way that it has to be, oh
Uh, yeah, time is of the essence
You know damn well you bring hell, I should call a reverend
Devil horns on a angel, still haven’t learned my lesson, uh
We’re a mess and our life’s a wreck (Hey)
Toxic, toxic, toxic
The most beautiful things grow old and start rottin’
I should’ve turned away when I found out you were demonic
Let’s be honest, you’re the devil’s daughter
Say hey to your father, uh, he owe me twenty dollars
We gon’ run through hell with like twenty-hundred choppers
We gon’ give ’em hell and I put that on my mama
Me and Trippie Redd boolin’ back in the Bahamas

Baby, come and have a blast with me
Do everything I say like your majesty
Fuck with the gang and it be a tragedy
Fuck with my shooters, they in the back with me

Fuck with me baby, come get this bag with me
Been alone for a minute, that shit been dragging me
Craving your love, it’s heart-attacking me
Tryna get in that pussy, baby, that Mac and Cheese

Gang, gang, gang
Probably fuckin’ your mama
Three K on my wrist like André
Servin’ like entrée
Ha, huh, you dig? You dig? You dig?