Taking a hit
Start feeling mad ridiculous
Contracts with villains
Collapse the instances
I spit facts and venom
Roll my joints fat with wisdom
My dog tags are missing
I roll hash in my spliffs and I
Do this for fun, don’t want no attention
From some wacks, not to mention
They’re lacking vision (Uh)
Finish rhythms in an instance
I rap fast without blinking
I spend cash without thinking
Heh, who am I kidding?
Let me tell you what I think:
This life is but a game and I’m throwing the dices
Weighted or not
Your outcome will go precisely
How I want it to
'cuz I am a god with this writing (Uh)
Let me write raps on this rhythm
Kill tracks while I’m tripping
Trace taxying tinder women
Now relax
Rapid racing feelings, in the back
Acid aging, dealing crack
Cocaine, cages, this is just crap
I’m making all of this up
I’m craving cookies, bro, pass me a pick-up
My raps got you fist-fucked
This track’s ridiculous
Big mac’s and big blunts
Mr. Krabbs all jealous
But this ain’t no secret recepy
It’s standard old kush
Nevermind
My brain is the place where you’ll find
The inspiration for all of these rhymes
Be quick, be on time
If you miss this hit or decline
You’ll all just be fine
But you’ll be missing the wave-ride
I’m floating, smoking
So much these kids think I’m overdosing
Now listen really close to these words I’ve chosen
The only thing I do is extend my vocal chords and
That creates speech
All these trappers should be drinking some bleach
‘cuz I’ve had it up here, hearing these screeching voices
These bitches are some greedy oysters
In search of some pearls
They all be after money, man, haven’t you heard?
There’s no more fun in rap, it’s fucking absurd
For one second, don’t give a fuck
Don’t let your fucks get blurred
You big bad bitches are just a bunch of nerds
And I know it shouldn’t be me saying all of these words
But still
Someone had to
I'm not the greatest trapper
But it’s not the fame I’m after
Between clout and real recognition
I prefer the latter
You bitches all chit-chatters
But don’t focus on what matters
The love for the music, not the money
Makes the rapper
My grandma smiling while she serving up the platter
You people rap good, but I, I do it better
Pass the cheddar, write a letter, tell all these bitches that they shit
Climb the ladder, do a backflip, cringe over the word lit
Just a few of the things on my to do list
Next to buying some good weed
And rubbing your bitches clit
Fictional
I had to stress it cuz I’m messing around
Criminal
Is the message that appears to be found
Syllables
Are what I use to invent all of these rhymes
Lyrical
The way I switch my flow is fucking sublime
Biblical
Is another word that just fucking rhymes
Synical
Stop this shit man, I’m losing my mind
Back at it, fact checking
Is this a real rapper, or again wack flexing
Got me on your line-up
Real rap or kinda
Boom-bap Al Qaida
Boom-bap, what?
My trip is cinematic
I’m high up, in the attic
Some people call me addict
That shit that got me laughing
All these people asking
For my photograph and
People call me mad cringe
'cuz I’m making all of this up, just for the sake of a song
Acting