?? 資源分類：音樂
?? 更新日期：2026-01-03
?? 存儲平臺：夸克網(wǎng)盤
?? 歌詞
No opps in my rear-view, just fumes and past dues,
chrome heart on my chest, still spitting like a vacuum.
I buried all the hate—six feet in some fake shoes,
now roses grow from concrete where the snakes moved.
Countin’ up in twilight, moon hang like a gold tooth,
every bar a bullet, but I never had to show proof.
Still stuntin’ on the karma, call it déjà-vu,
I turned the pain to propane—now the beat feel like a spa room.
If you lookin’ for an opp, that ain’t me, that’s you.
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