Future Goats

(Yeah, Mix and Mari, you already know what it is)
(Mix Williams)
Ay these rappers really my sons
I can see the resemblance
I'm like Kid Cudi, got these bullets humming through your residence
My opps wanna box
You get rocked, I will settle it
Ni**as got more bars than 25 life sentences
Got this bitch leaning like some italics
All these rappers getting bold as fuck, there ain’t no holding us
You know what's up
Trying to stop the flame, they ain't been cold enough
Told me I sound like a future goat, I think it’s holding up
Doing this for 10 years
Y'all don't know what rapping is
Taking shots, shooting blanks, like you Michael Jackson's kid
Rapper big headed
It's easy with a sniper scope
Feeling like I'm working at Panera bread the way I am counting dough
Y'all only kinda dope
DEA been tracking me
Hurdle obstacles like I'm an Olympic athlete
And one call
My shooter sliding through if you come after me
The way you ni**gas begging for attention really sad to me
I used to call some of my peers my idols for real
You mess with any of them and you probably get killed
Most you ni**gas beefing talking bout who best between you
If you think you competition, I can’t fucking see you ni**a

(954mari)
Ratchet cut em like a fraction
Clap and put a whole in em
Holy shit
Holster hold a total clip
Hold a L or hold a grip
Coding, I’m the 1 to put an 0 in em
Hit'em with the rights like when Sony got a bone to pick
Shadow clones phony
I can’t tell who my real homies is
I'mma put the heat and pressure to em like a swollen limb
Brodie hit my ex box, know it's no consoling him
Shit was so addicting when I hit it, it control a kid
I grew up where we degraded dames
They portrayed different
Yall grew up where they embraced the lame
You some fake ni**as
Timeskip Franky
Hit the lab it leave your face missing
Same ni**as, same difference
Change for some change
What you say,, you insane ni**a
Professor X when I sex cause the brain different
You must be a special opp how you hate thinking(Bitch)
And the way you moving we ain't on the same mission
I took a shot
That’s how I jayed past these dame dashes
You just cover other rappers styles
Boy you ain't rappers
I stack bread like true disciples, you some fake pastors
You splurging on chains
We ain't serving the same master
You ain't put your soul up in your records
You loosing a step
Rotten fruit, the shit that you beget
I'm producing baguettes
You rats really spinning in a box
Like you on a cassette
This music shit like Mucinex
I got shit off of my chest
(Talk!, Talk!)