Too Many Rappers

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Muze Sikk

3:45

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Me and them we ain’t the same
There’s way too many rappers
You ain’t real you a fucking rapper
You stay hanging with a tight grip
What that really means is that you liked it
Everybody got a purpose
Some put the work in
Others put in worship
Is you down ya
Is you riding or not
Is you ill if not then get out my car
We ain’t pulling off at the next stop
Ain’t no fucking game this ain’t no Xbox
Shouts out to my ex I heard you wife thots
You ain’t no shooter you just say that when the mics on
Everybody tryna get it
These grown men must be kidding
Your demo looking like your type huh
I make her smile while I put it on her face and make her wipe up
Internet stunting that’s some big shit
It was free for me to mix this
They said hit me up when you get big
I ain’t tryna get big I’m tryna get rich
Price tag
I know I’m nice that’s why I fucking brag
Ain’t the type to swipe a rivals bag
Ain’t the type to eye another’s stash
Momma still wonder why I rap
My boys always tell me that I snapped
I’m Floyd eating pink trippy facts
Let the paint drip on the dash
Let the man slip on the slash
Rip it to the scripture imma smash
Bitch I pop a whole clip up in that ass
The clip is the jizz my dick spits when I tap
See I’m still speaking facts
You get exposed for that acting like you trap
My mom would whoop my ass if I was flipping sacs
My dad would kick me out the house if I was strapped
Still burning clean peep the mileage
When I was young it was all bicycles and sprite lids
I keep the vision seared right into my eyelids
Not the type to speak I abide in silence
I make the hardest beats you ain’t heard yet
I got a ear very clear imma vet
I’ve been a fan of Atlanta since snap tracks
My first kit was full of trap claps
Facts
I’m loving where the game is at
I love to see another MF gain a bag
Muze to the Sikk on a different dash
In the middle of the map with a witches batch
Aint really nothing I can say about these daily tracks
If they don’t get me where I’m going then I’ll make a path
I got commitment to the vision ain’t no jibber jab
Ain’t the type to quit I’ll kick it I’m gripping cash
Bands in my pants
I don’t blow no backwoods
Smoking joints we keep it proper
New chick she’s rocking pink bizarre shopper
Ay
Tap me in Forrest
I can run like a MF horse
Air Rose like a MF florist
Coming thru the back door ask Horace
Don’t make me pull the jitsu outta storage
Don’t make me turn that apple to a orange
Friends in high places getting stoned up
I’m a nice guy I like to phone her up
Buy her something nice and get my boner sucked
Watch this lonely stoner start to solar up
She still let me hit when she sober up
Prolly want a kid you better throat a nut
Can you stomach that
Can you run with that
Unknown till I run it like a running back
How could he utter that
I whip that butter fat
What’s new I’m going harder for the summer bash
If you really like me you gon like my friend
That’s some shit you hear when you the fucking man
I’m seeing double all she wanna do is rub it in
Eating pussy while the others licking on my hand
Indy Heat Records
We just getting started
This shits eternal
You get what you earn tho
Any obstacle is just a hurdle

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