I’m so on fire that the sun wanna put me out
if I was a bad rapper I would talk about the pussy now
I’m the fucking shit so your tummy wanna push me out
you probably think it’s funny lyrics take the tushy route
My spirit is adherent to a beat so what I rhyme about
not the money but how I’m lyrically gon punch you out like pacheo
now fax me out your medical records so I can inspect em
check em to see whatever else there is left for
me to break, like the record. Get it, break records?
Drake’s records. Thank second, praise first.
atmosphere, paint lemons. Spank her.
spray venom. Get Adolescence, out of here in gay denim.
No way dennis, I’m out of beer and now I fear for the worst
yeah my fucking thirst.
A hearse for the way I curse, in person blurtin words at a nurse with a verse reversed and un rehearsed in the burbs. Sippin burben, in a black suburban swerven on curbs. Using verbs to get a certain persons nerves over worked. That ass of hers is a blur when she purposely over twerks.
How do you not get it? you got in your head if you can’t comprehend what I said when I said it. I like lettuce.
From a brick to a song, does the scheme have a goal?
From a pimp to a hoe, do you think you see gold?
Moving on. And I’m so glad to be away from those who do me wrong. It grew me strong. Open eyes up wide and keep them focused on the prize. Choose a route to get to that thang, steady, slow, enjoy the ride! uh!
The struggle is real, options run out, new ones arrive. Improves and impostors leave you cautious in doubt. You see, life is an obstacle now. It’s near impossible it’s just wants to toss you around. It’ll make you think building good, then knock it all down.