Lyrics:
None of these guys (nothing on mine)
None of these, none of these, none of these, none of these-
None of these guys got nothing on mine
They're
You can trace the mystery of ancient history
Through art of artists and their models
You can comb through the Rome coliseum
And the rear
my pocket
How I'm buryin' these artists
On a scale of turnt you're minus
Mine says very, yours says hardly
And what's scary is you probably can
and get dressed 'cause I'm fly?
Why not get all of these chips? I'm that guy
Why not? Not why? (Why?)
Why not? Not why? (Why?)
Why not go hard every
call it "yin yanging"
Um
It's not a, it's not racist
Guys, it's 21st century racism
It's racism in light of itself
The only reason I'm saying these
Divide ending with guys collide, brute agenda
I fight all you clowns
Goodnight strike then you all fall down
P!
Real artists
Fake artists
Hot
an asshole, nope, sodomy
And I ain't sorry for bein' that honky
When y'all faker than Morgan Wallen's apology
Look at these dudes, I'm y'alls dad
You see my
"America's most complete artist"
[Quik] Fuck these punk ass niggaz!
"you-you-you better get ready"
"for America's most complete artist"
"for America's most
There I was, in this room, with all these amazing artists
and all I could think is, I don't have enough followers on Spotify or YouTube to even
Why are these tears in my eyes
When I know a man
A man ain't supposed to cry?
(yeah, yeah, yeah) Oh
(A man ain't supposed to cry) i know a man
(A
rap, and of course I am back
Because these other MC's out here are so weak and wack
So BDP will teach them, hey, we will teach them
BDP will teach
to do
It i am an artist and I care about humanity
Yes I am personally rich and I can
Buy furs and houses for my family
But I need access to more money
of the hustlers, uh
The world is my custy
New Rich Porter
The way I flip quarters
Front on all these other rap artists, but me
Mama was a mink wearer
Papa ran
of the hustlers, uh
The world is my custy
New Rich Porter
The way I flip quarters
Front on all these other rap artists, but me
Mama was a mink wearer
Papa ran
Bounce my nigga you don't want no beef
With these Chi-town niggas
You ain't got the phlegm
For the four-pound spitters
Underground underneath
and deprivin'
Now I'm pushin' to take a dive and connivin'
We should never hear any cries on the guys
When independents we risin', high steady survivin'
Never
Trapped in time and I don't know what to do
These friends of mine, I can see right through
You don't gotta tell me I don't gotta move
'Cause I'm
and get dressed 'cause I'm fly?
Why not get all of these chips? I'm that guy
Why not, not why?
Why not, not why?
Why not go hard every day? I won't
group not want to
Speak to me? I think the
Yeezys I was doing over there were
Comparable to that Nicki Minaj verse
Because these guys were like ‘we’re
look like I'm doin' alright
But you should see the other guy
As far as anyone can see
Things are lookin' up these days
Only let 'em see this side
Yo, who dat boy? Who him is?
Him that nig-ga, I swear
Stand up guy, him don't need no chair
Well, where the fuck him at?
'Cause nigga, I'm right
Check this out,check this out,
RAP
This guy's a choke artist
Ya catch a bad one
Your better off shootin yourself
With Papa Doc's handgun
Climbin up
and mullets
Jammin' me, Jake Owen, and Morgan Wallen
Turn up here park, to step in them Chevys
No shirts, sun burn and lovin' every minute
Somewhere in Panama
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