Lyrics:
floss mode
The life of a boss player
Fuck what you thought though
My enemies deceased
Die like a bitch
When my album hit the streets
Niggas can't
floss mode
The life of a boss player
Fuck what you thought though
My enemies deceased
Die like a bitch
When my album hit the streets
Niggas can't
fuckin' way
But here I am, workin' in the studio
And your album ain't out because you're movin' slow
By the time you make one I'll be on ten
Hit the studio
Pop, R and B are coming up in todays age
And how they're all blowing up like
We had Billie Eilish back in twenty nineteen
We have Olivia Rodrigo right
Man, like-
Why is Lipton iced tea too good man
Ah
It looks like you lost another one
Okay, quick sit I'm going to run this shit
Making another album
me to be scared
Cuz I'm 20 something without a plan
I used to have one, I'm sorry I failed
I took a sip of glory and fame
Now the bottle in someone
everybody wins
Flicking these ashes off
Bumping the first album by Asher Roth
My whole crew been out here working our asses off
I want the damn crown
Stand up
Hey sir, can I get some ice cream?
Well no sir, uh, you gotta pay for that son
That's okay, I got my daddy's money
Uh, can I get a large, uh, vinty
was on, tippy tippy, I'm on my toes
Fuck risin' to the occasion, the temperature been rose
Set it off like intros, blast you and your kin folks
cold
Dear rappers, can you help me?
I'll even take a selfie with
Your album that I bought
I got every single CD that
You ever fuckin' dropped
I spent
and my man Rick got millions of gold albums
(That's a lie) I'm gettin' cold money every day
(You're a liar)
You'll need a wheel barrow for all that shit in
on stage and grab the mic from
Someone else's? You know
This arena tomorrow
It’s gonna be a completely different set up
Some concert something like that
This
Closing up shop, and locking doors
Runnin up lost in someone's room
Silence so lighty you go dim
Bombs are going off inside your chest
If it feels
So my block made heavy money my weed fluffy
N' got red hair like Peggy Bundy
I got 20's come cop from the house
Cause the green you got garbage
Like
So my block made heavy money my weed fluffy
N' got red hair like Peggy Bundy
I got 20's come cop from the house
Cause the green you got garbage
Like
I didn't have the words that night
But we're both trying, so you say it's fine
But it's like, why
I got the words, right
I think em up every night
being shackled to the paper
Broke free while hitting my in the pen dance
SellYourArtNotYourSoul
Waking 'em up with my internal matchbox
Rising Under
masons
Pregnant teens give birth to intelligent gangsters they daddies faceless
Play this, by ya stomach, let my words massage it and rub it
I'll be his
pregnant and you’re tha father so, whatchu gonna do about it??
*masturbation*
Hi, my name is Tina, and I'm looking for someone that goes by the name
[indistinguishable] ...there's always someone one million stone heavier than you... [indistinguishable]
- Here's a song which is also from the last album. It tells
Tell me what you thinkin'
Like this is a status report
I was gonna quit the game but I had to abort
Keepin' it quiet like a
Private island resort
I'm
're a lightweight
They tell me you nice and I'm like, "Wait"
Go get me a knife, you're looking like steak
And when the stakes are high, I stake out for days
are facts
Twenty something albums in three years, who did it?
Bodied everybody on the bill, who winning?
You need the hype to prevail and I get it
I
guys last
Year, two years ago
Three -whatever you guys were seeing
Someone being suffocated by a
Perception being suffocated by people in
A position that
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