
1000 GRAMS OF SALAMI GORT (Ft. BRUHMANEGOD & Lil Darkie)
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[Intro]
What do I do?
Get to recordin'
[Verse 1: GORT]
(GORT) I’m in the deli with a fistful of salami
She's on me, she said she want me
Brodie talkin' stupid, best believe I’m pullin' out the Tommy
Hammer and sickle, I'm like a commie
Stomp him in the dome with pastrami
Stomp his friends too, just to catch me a couple bodies
Damn, his shawty say she want me
Catch me at the deli with a thousand grams salami
[Chorus: GORT]
Got the bread, the oil, the salt and spit
The pesto and salami, fresh basil, it hit
I toast your body in the oven with Italian herbs
I'm in the deli makin' sandwiches, man, fuck what you heard
You got the bread, the oil, the salt and spit
The pesto and salami, fresh basil, it hit
I toast your body in the oven with Italian herbs
I'm smokin' packs in my Deruelle, man, fuck, what's the word?
(GORT, GORT, GORT)
[Verse 2: BRUHMANEGOD]
One billion grams of salami
I stuff your face with hams and pastrami
Some fat in your body, I got the bread pockets
You thinkin’ I passed the Courvoisier
But, wait, I’m so mad that I'm sick of the absence of chicken up on this sandwich I’m stickin' in my gluttonous porthole
My fork's full, ennormous pole
You can't afford a bowl of affordable horn bulls slashed into a stir fry
Sendin’ this shit back if you don't get it right the first time
What do I do?
Get to recordin'
[Verse 1: GORT]
(GORT) I’m in the deli with a fistful of salami
She's on me, she said she want me
Brodie talkin' stupid, best believe I’m pullin' out the Tommy
Hammer and sickle, I'm like a commie
Stomp him in the dome with pastrami
Stomp his friends too, just to catch me a couple bodies
Damn, his shawty say she want me
Catch me at the deli with a thousand grams salami
[Chorus: GORT]
Got the bread, the oil, the salt and spit
The pesto and salami, fresh basil, it hit
I toast your body in the oven with Italian herbs
I'm in the deli makin' sandwiches, man, fuck what you heard
You got the bread, the oil, the salt and spit
The pesto and salami, fresh basil, it hit
I toast your body in the oven with Italian herbs
I'm smokin' packs in my Deruelle, man, fuck, what's the word?
(GORT, GORT, GORT)
[Verse 2: BRUHMANEGOD]
One billion grams of salami
I stuff your face with hams and pastrami
Some fat in your body, I got the bread pockets
You thinkin’ I passed the Courvoisier
But, wait, I’m so mad that I'm sick of the absence of chicken up on this sandwich I’m stickin' in my gluttonous porthole
My fork's full, ennormous pole
You can't afford a bowl of affordable horn bulls slashed into a stir fry
Sendin’ this shit back if you don't get it right the first time
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