Lyrics:
Peeps comparing me to Logic, Eminem, ScarLxrd, and WifiFuneral
I promise with comparisons, you soon will see your funeral
I’m done with these comparisons,
create and tape
A series for me
Lyrically he not hard, fuck Akh bars (Akbar)
The ratchet that'll blow his top
Off I call Teairra Mari
It couldn't be
you call 'em drops
Whatever you call it just drop the top
Nine albums out, ain't changed my talk
A thousands hoes walked on I'm still a dog
Ain't
shock the circuit board
Everyone aboard
Better have your seatbelts on
It's an all out war
So you better call moral support
It's my first time driving four
funny
Where do you belong? I don't
Think it's a riddle
You’re a Stan, a copycat Eminem's Skittle
Got the 007 deadly sins aching in me
But your 5 albums
captivated by business
They call it Stockholm syndrome
The love is real but fake
I do chemsex, party and play
G on, cuddle puddles
Elon's Hall of Shame
Shady
outselling you
By 29 I had three albums that had blew
Now let's talk about somethin' I don't really do
Go in someone's daughter's mouth stealin' food
But
and four chords repeated
Completed by a relatable lyrical concept about an ex or something
This isn't for the masses
It's for the
musically analytical
So
Now they wanna hear a country nigga rap
Five albums in, I swear a country nigga snap
Thought they wanted trap, thought they wanted bass
Thought
Now they wanna hear a country nigga rap
Five albums in, I swear a country nigga snap
Thought they wanted trap, thought they wanted bass
Thought
known at the time for hits from Lisa Lisa and Cult Jam and they had this massive hit by the Backstreet Boys, All I Have To Give. Every so often I rip him
And expect them not to know what a woman's clitoris is
Of course they're gonna know what intercourse is
By the time they hit fourth grade
They've got
call 'em rags, you call 'em drops
Whatever you call it just drop the top
Nine albums out, ain't changed my talk
A thousands hoes walked on I'm still
(Wrong album)
I'm a monk, still chip a bitch (Call Alvin)
Hella fresh how I'm drippin' it
(Sauce fountain)
My peak I ain't hit the shit (Tall mountain)
better call a Lyft
I don't mess with the fake counterfeit
You can tell by the way that I spit
It's legit on my momma dem
I know that I'm blessed
So no
my album's gonna flop
wondering if I'm gonna hit Billboard top,(I don't know)
why this world got so much hate
if there was that much love it would all
(Ludacris) Verse 1
I just touched down in killa Cali,
Strapped up my boots,
Got scooped up by Game,
So I hopped up in the coupe,
Gaah, What up
you for
I stuck my dick in this game like a rapist
They call me Slim Roethlisberger
I go berserker than a fed-up post office worker
I murk her
a threat that's growin with ya, step from the hills to the best
I prove that I'm witty by usin my mind
I spit from my heart so you don't confuse me with
Yeah, nigga (G. Ry got me)
Machine, bitch
(Ayy, Hit, how we gon' lose with shit like this, my nigga?)
Yeah, all praises due to the most high
one of their albums (what?)
Eminem made a lot of commercials
For Call of Duty
But really doesn't know a whole lot about 'em
Michael Jackson secretly
And if you want a hit? Maybe we'll return ya call
Don't call collect
(You have a collect call from)
the booth
I'm walking on water
I feel like a boss nigga
You can call me Jesus
These people got ghostwriters
Thinkin' that they the shit
But we all know
She ain't call or text or none
You know I'm on the way
Ain't text and tweet
For none
When she see me
We be fucking
Baby hit me up
Let a nigga
Know some
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