Worried ’Bout It Tom MacDonald (Ft. Geek No Glasses)

[Verse 1: Tom MacDonald]
I like my bitches like my interviews; short and sweet
I can't stand these fuckin' rappers like some broken feet
You'll never find the bodies cause the ocean's deep
I left some blankets on the seabed where they supposed to sleep
We pop up like a children's book
They talk tough till their children took
It's better to give them receipt but we're takin' our chances with this and we don't give a fuck
Paint the walls with they blood
And watch the paint dry
Kill two at once, that's tie die
Y'all dear to me and y'all are just lookin' like deer in my headlights
Roadkill, my hoes kill, get a bitch to leave you breathless
And she come to my crib with my favorite whiskey and all of your teeth on her necklace, swag
Y'all a bunch of fuckin' dreamers so you better rest
Put your torso in the ground, call that a treasure chest
Life is more than money, bitches and some fast cars
My dawgs will take your life and then bury your bones in the backyard
Like they washed me with some bleach, I'm so fucking faded
I'm the cat's pajamas but all my pussy naked

[Chorus: Tom MacDonald & Geek No Glasses]
I-I-I-I-I heard they comin' for our neck, we ain't worried 'bout it
We ain't worried 'bout it, we ain't worried 'bout it
We don't let it cause no stress, we all heard about it
We all heard about it, we all heard about it
Them boys think that they a threat, we ain't worried 'bout it
We ain't worried 'bout it, we ain't worried 'bout it
Until they talkin' 'bout a chick, we ain't heard about it
We ain't heard about it, we ain't heard about it