THRILL LYRICS – DESTROY LONELY

Read the full THRILL lyrics by Destroy Lonely and Ken Carson along with the music video, song credits, release information and other details about the song. If you enjoy Destroy Lonely’s music, you can also explore AMERIKA and DOUBT IT, two other songs by Destroy Lonely.

[Chorus: Ken Carson]
N!ggas be talking that, huh, n!ggas ain’t talking ’bout nothing, huh, huh
I just been talking that, huh, I just been talking that money, yeah, yeah
Can’t communicate if it ain’t ’bout them funds, huh, huh
My location off like I’m on the run, huh, huh
Rock Balenci’, woah, she like Saint Laurent, huh, huh
I’m all in her jaw, just like bubble gum, yeah, woah
Thought she was your bro ’til I told her, “I want some”
Can’t pop G6, Gelato #41 in my lungs
7:30, when it is 7, yeah, redrum
Switchiana, it’s a box on the back of my gun
[Verse 1: Ken Carson]
My new b!tch with Baby Money, he walked in with the lady money
This Wednesday I’m on the same high as Saturday and Sunday
You might never feel this high ’cause you ain’t rich like this
She might never get a ring, she fu*ked the whole clique

[Verse 2: Destroy Lonely & Ken Carson]
I think I want her, hold up, nah, that’s just the drügs
Hit that lickiana, walked in with my mask and my gun
I been taking uppers, but I keep a cup and a blunt
I ain’t gotta stunt her, yes, I know this ho gonna fu*k me, yeah
Got my twin to the left and he clutching, huh
Your b!tch all on G6, pu*sy bussing
Like my Goyard, my b!tch booty stuffy
Think I’m into sipping Wockhardt over ‘Tussin, yeah
Prada plug, we cashing out, don’t need no fronting
All the promoters cashing out, they paying money
I still would kill, remember the couches, ain’t have nothing (No bap)
Don’t do new friends, it’s plenty of b!tches and lot’s of hundreds (No bap)

[Verse 3: Ken Carson & Destroy Lonely]
Huh, shiesty on, no Pooh
I’m a animal, I belong in the zoo
Some of my partners bang red, don’t know too many blue
Blues in my pocket of my Religion True’s

I mean True Religion
She a video vixen, she got OnlyFans
I’m a money maker, I get only bands (On God)
Hit it with the fentanyl and serve it to your mans (No bap)
My London b!tch fu*k with the whippet, yeah, she off the can
My L.A. b!tch fu*k with the molly, she off Santan (Woo, woo)
My Florida b!tch off opiates, yeah, she on brand (Woo)
My model b!tch want cigarettes, she say it help her stand (Uh-huh)
I do magic, throw this money, huh, I bet I make her dance (Uh-huh)
Walk in that b!tch with my steel (Uh-huh)
On ten, I’m ready to drill (Uh-huh)
Don Julio, she want some scotch
Codeine that lean, for real
Since 2016, been cracking them seals
Since 2015, been popping them pills
I gave her a bean, she split it with the whole team and all the hoes got killed (Got killed)
Dunk on your b!tch, I ball (I ball), I got skills
Too much water, ah (Ah), I grew gills
You get high for fun, I get high to switch my feel’
I’ma just be fine, give a fu*k ’bout being real

[Verse 4: Destroy Lonely]
I keep nodding off (Off), I cracked the seal, yeah
In her pu*sy, ’bout to drown (Drown), Navy SEALs, yeah
Tripping, shawty going North (North), she popped a pill
Treat a thot like some shorts (Shorts), cut her off, for real (For real)
We got foreign trucks climbing up the hill (No bap)
Fu*k a boring b!tch and give her a lil’ thrill (No bap)
I’m only twenty-two but made a couple mil’
I tell her be 5, I’m with the 5s, nah, for real
Hit the E-way, let the bird get loose
Maybach four seat, but we stuff b!tches by the twos
I’m off that boof, rocking Balenciaga boots (No bap)
Call up the troops, make your partner go poof (No bap)
Double O-5, Double O-5, we the truth
Ways to die, tell them this s*it ain’t YouTube (No bap)
In the field, don’t need to think, just make a move
Washing money in the sink ’til it turn blue (No bap)

[Chorus: Ken Carson]
N!ggas be talking that, huh, n!ggas ain’t talking ’bout nothing, huh, huh
I just been talking that, huh, I just been talking that money, yeah, yeah
Can’t communicate if it ain’t ’bout them funds, huh, huh
My location off like I’m on the run, huh, huh
Rock Balenci’, woah, she like Saint Laurent, huh, huh
I’m all in her jaw, just like bubble gum, yeah, woah
Thought she was your bro ’til I told her, “I want some”
Can’t pop G6, Gelato #41 in my lungs
7:30, when it is 7, yeah, redrum
Switchiana, it’s a box on the back of my gun