"When there is no more room in hell, the dead will walk the earth"

We smoke off the ink
We get blowed off the ink
We get fucked up
We takin' them hard pulls
Where da bud at?
Where da bud at?
We smoke off the ink
We get blowed off the ink
We get fucked up
We takin' them hard pulls
Where da bud at?

Sittin' in a circle as we're praying to the wicked one
Flames arise, a busta cries, and everybody starts to run
Lookin' at the devil in his eyes, don't be surprised
Everybody in this bitch will die by the night

Lightning strikes in front of my feet
I believe I'm the demon that bleeds in the color of grey, aye
Winter is coming, I summon the flames, aye
Summer is gone, I'm no longer Yung Plague, aye
Noose and a blade, aye
Lucifer's slave, aye
Choosin' the day I'll be loose in the grave, aye
Slay the sheep that pull wool over my eyes
Creep in the dark, I'm a shark in disguise
Park it in drive, jump out the ride
Crucify me on a spike
I will die right by Lucifer's side
Bodies in a pile about a mile down the road
Got a while 'til it snows
Black and white makes the color that I glow
Grow in a hole until I become whole

Shoot that bitch right in his neck like executing Clay Morrow
Then I stumble and I walk to go and grab me a shovel
Yung Jax Teller, and the concrete's my jungle
Smuggle a fuckboy to sacrifice into rubble
Tunnel vision to murder with grey walls cavin' in
Crumble 'till I'm unheard of, the resurrection begins
(Welcome to the land of 6,000 degrees
Feel the ferocity of fire burnin' for eternity)

We smoke off the ink
We get blowed off the ink
We get fucked up
We takin' them hard pulls
Where da bud at?
Where da bud at?
We smoke off the ink
We get blowed off the ink
We get fucked up
We takin' them hard pulls

Copyright: Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.
Writer(s): Aristos Petrou, Ivan Ramirez, Scott Arceneaux