Private Show (Four 8's) Father (Ft. Slug † Christ)

[Intro: Slug Christ]
Yeah
Slugger
Check my swag bitch
Know I look like Kim K
Slugger

[Verse 1: Slug Christ]
Check my sauce I'm going
'Cause I feel so good today (yo bitch)
Yo bitch want a private show
She want the serenade (okay now)
Grew up 'round Atlanta now I stay out in L.A. (what)
The metaphysics of this trip is stupid fruity
I secure the bag
And then I step out on the porch
Walk it to the jungle and I walk it out north
I can sense a disturbance inside the f*cking force (bitch)
What you wanna know cause I got burdens uh huh yeah

[Verse 2: Father]
Juked on this hoe and broke her knees
Her ankles bent like plastic
Sum'n 'bout when I'm off that juice
My dude, my juke majestic
Treat these thots like trading cards
Can't have my holographics
Farm-to-table my girls love the park
I keep 'em grass-fed
Picnic, we kick this shit, her ass swing like pop shove-it
Get my dick licked, she with the shits
Shorty just love cock-sucking
She just love me when I'm off the shits
I'm sober this bitch irk me
All my diamonds white like Fergie
These bitches is just not worthy