Lyrics:
standards, fuck yo propaganda
Bitch I ain’t trying to pander to anybody who faking shit for these fucking cameras
Doing damage by living life in the fakest
through life,)
When I'm gone you will not replace me
(Golden moves how I prove, The Arctic Cat spits ice
Run it back yet again with my kin, the twins win
Uh, I'm cruisin' by ya
Took Banks for granted, got you too used to fire
New provider, cross paths, I'll prolly dropped a few screws beside ya
New
fuck her too
Together we can play a game of swi-cha-are you
I ain't the type who gets all mushy
I like to sit back
And watch them eat each other's pussy!
feet
Kapeesh?
I defy the feat by defecating on beat
Fuck how you feel i've got an oral fixation
With spitting liquefied razors
So ill that they cut
can die together
As long as I send your maggot ass to the essence
I don't give a fuck about my presence
I'm lost in the blocks of hate and can't wait
chopper put in check
Big body on broaders, that's all I know
Mansion on Washetona 6 figures on the floor
Double R and DR watched by Uptown security
of that brass monkey on some drunkie shit
You R&B fake rappers suck a monkey dick
I'm from back in the days
with the Christmas for haze
on my back,
And if I'm not happy
I'll break you the fuck down
And build you again
Who stole the uprock, who stole the paint?
Who stole the cypher slayers
Who buffed
will easily kill for mother
If you wanna fight me
Gotta know who's behind me
There are a lot of crooked smiles in this industry from biting
A lot
a gun inside my mouth and blow my brains to particles
Used to have a heart of gold
Flow it is still arctic cold
But now my plaques are rusty and I'm
everybody finna judge, I be really bout it
Your honor I don't honor you at all, who are you to judge?
Nigga FUCK a judge, I be really BOUT IT!
Don't you tell
of an old dude!
From the days of news news by kids who cut me like a razor
So I sit and play Dat New New by Kid Cuddi, cause that's my flavor
Put on Ill Mind
my house
'Fore I grab you by your hair and slap dick to your mouth
Bob Digi, yeah you know who is he
Girl, I fucking slave trade your ass
Of that brass monkey on some drunkie shit
You, R&B fake rappers suck a monkey dick
I'm from back in the days with the Christmas
For haze on my back,
brass monkey on some drunkie shit
You, R&B fake rappers suck a monkey dick
I'm from back in the days with the Christmas
For haze on my back, stripped out
the monkey's constipated
I'm curious, ya'll who fucks got me serious
Is time running out?
Are his rhymes running out?
Who knows? Will he be there
When the crew
Strippers are fuct, tweakers are fuct, your mom is fuct, and cocaine is fuct, your girlfriend is fuct, by my face shes fuct, by a dog shes fuct, by
On the plane to South Central
Never get played by the monkey wrench ho
Steady mobbin' I'm just like Robin Hood
Up to no good, so many bitches on my wood
of the Mexicans i'll skip a bar
Then come back because I'm no perfectionist
Who are you better than? Not me
Fuck, nigga, you can check my discography
A nigga
Gather your weight, take a deep look inside
Are you really who they idolize?
To pimp a butterfly
At first, I did love you
But now I just wanna fuck
"DIE ANTWOORD!"
Fuck, I still can't say the shit
But how quickly they forget who the fuck I was
Now Ninja try to duck my slugs, you let your girl get
the seed who sucked the milk from Mahalia
You wishin' Shaolin Island could be swallowed up by the sea
Gobbled up, like the lost city of Moore and Atlantis
me
I'm still the same me, gettin' pussy, stayin' weeded
These bitches are starstruck, so fuck the way they gettin' treated
I don't need it, if her
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