Firing Squad (feat. Stakes)

Who going harder than me The more I drink, the more she look like Cardi to me The more I think, the more I see I'm Parker, the pete Or more like Miles Morales when I'm starting the beat A lot of problems often seem to start with a tweet But rarely do you see them end with chalk in the street But I've been known to pull some rare astonishing feats Consult with Jiminy Cricket 'fore you're talking to me Cause I'm a fucking dog like a monopoly piece You squash the beef with me and that's a Harvard degree I need a little recognition Cause bitch I'm tired of being humble in a dead position We on the rise, never need a label head permission And to be honest, I am worried that the feds'll listen Because I'm cooking crack music till the edges crisping I been speaking facts truly but you tend miss it So just run it back, Dewey, or it's Malcolm missing Bitch I'm smoking dat gooey, all my buds are glistening Got you staring down a barrel like it's tunnel vision Got you glaring my apparel cuz your funds are missing Bitch I'm struggling to put it into words I can't find the nouns nor the verbs Or the constenants to sum up how I'm trying to be heard This my third year spitting, couple views on the verse And I've only had the free bread, the mains and deserts And starters are yet to come Bitch I'm hungry with a thirst for success And the blood of the weak so Imma work till I'm burnt out It's either the fame or it's a hearse Half the shit I say gets redacted Bodies in the bathtub, caustic reaction Saran Wrap rappers and take em to the pasture I'm really just a young, bold and brash lil bastard You collecting Kohl's Cash, man that's kinda tragic I be with a model bitch getting my ass licked Ayo Chris, why they rapping bout they last lick No antenna on the whip but where the fuck the static It's a heart attack what I spent up on my Patek But it's a beaut Spam caller blowing up my gadget prolly driving a UTE I can spit this shit for hours, it ain't nothing to do Got the squad behind me like totally dude I party like a rockstar, no guitar I took ya bitch to dinner We pull up to Little Caesars That five dollar pep put some pep in her step Till I take her to the crib Put some dick on her breath It's D I'm struggling to put it into words I can't find the nouns nor the verbs Or the consonants to sum up how I'm trying to be heard This my third year spitting, couple views on the verse And I've only had the free bread, the mains and deserts And starters are yet to come Bitch I'm hungry with a thirst for success And the blood of the weak so Imma work till I'm burnt out It's either the fame or it's a hearse Everyday a dilemma that has no real reaction Everybody just chill turn it down just a fraction You pissing me off Why are we interacting If money is time then right now you are subtracting My potential for making the bands Or growing the audience to make a couple of fans Cause uh I don't know if Imma stay here too long It's one of them, they always say you're soon gone Right now while I'm walking, talking all my shit And I'm not forty or fucked tryna raise four kids All bout money and sluts and gettin tunes sorted I can count blessings up when I'm on the Forbes list Right now it's kinda hard to keep smiling When a drink i wanna dive in But then everything I'm tryna do Keeps spiraling and I'm losing focus But Imma spit magic bitch Hocus pocus