Catastrophe Lyrics – Ken Carson

Read the full Catastrophe lyrics by Ken Carson along with the music video, song credits, release information and other details about the song. If you enjoy Ken Carson’s music, you can also explore Yes and Truth, two other songs by Ken Carson.

[Intro]
(Wake up, F1LTHY)

[Verse]
Ain’t no brands on my clothes, this not H&M
Too much, yeah, I can go band for band with the ATM
Send her a late DM, now she want to text, huh
Now she want to s*x, yeah
I’ma give her the X, huh
Put that b!tch on her neck
I got her in a three-point stance
She ask me what brand my pants
Robin jeans, I rob your mans
Take your money, then I hit my dance
Loaded, woah, I’m off the s*its
Pop out, a fan want to take a pic
When you pop out, don’t nobody notice
You’ll never live like I did
If you don’t feel me, don’t speak on it, shut up
He think he Lil Wayne ’cause he got him a milli’, lil’ n!gga, bet up
Stones on my neck, huh, I feel like Rosetta
She gon’ do what I let her
She gon’ do what I tell her
She gon’ do what I said, ’cause I’m the one having the racks and s*it
It’s a great chaos, but I’m having more, now it’s a catastrophe
Upside-down cross on my neck, they think it’s blasphemy
Hope you got insurance on your b!tch, ’cause I hit her on accident
Holding a TEC, yeah, I’m boarding a jet
Popped the G6 on a G6, said you gon’ do what? Huh?
Too much, huh, move like Donald Trump
Pockets stick out like the monks
Take a b!tch to Sephora
You can be my Barbie, huh, if I adore ya
I’m having keys like Switch, ain’t sharing s*it, huh, you can’t get a switch
Pour out the seal, yeah, codeine, codeine, I can’t feel s*it
Huh, huh, huh, I came a long way, I came from the dirt
She came more than once, now I got it on my shirt

I’m having Franklins, not Kirk
I’m not a jock, b!tch, or a jerk
I take a thot b!tch and turn her up
In this b!tch, just me and my cup
Don’t measure s*it, just pour that s*it up
Got that blick, you know that it’s up
No competition, these n!ggas suck
I’m sending shots, better duck
You better have a bulletproof truck
Say you a opp, n!gga, link up
AR-15 sing Aretha, I slimed out my teacher
Greet ya’ clutching on my blick, b!tch, it’s nice to meet you
You can keep the good girls, bring me the thots and eaters
You can’t calculate this s*it, lil’ b!tch, I’m off the meter, huh, huh, huh
You can’t calculate this s*it, ’cause I’m off the meter, yeah