Mr. Denim Boy

[Intro]
Mister-
Mr. Denim Boy

[Verse 1]
Mr. Denim, can you tell em?
I was riding round town with my thoughts that I had tryna sell 'em
When I step around town, better shoo, shoo, shoo
When I drop these tracks, you hear doo, doo, doo
I’m really tryna find my self, but I’m by myself, so who the fuck is you?
I’m really standing on business
I’m really making my wishes come true
Even if I don’t like that line, call it, I’ll give you the digits
I was a dog in a pack and I miss it
They counted me out, good riddance
Don’t hit my line when you washed up
“Let’s catch up”
Put you aside like dirty dishes

[Chorus]
Mr. Denim Boy (Dead man can’t wear no jeans, nah)
Mr. Denim Boy (Dead man can’t rock no shorts, nah)
Mr. Denim Boy (Dead man can’t rock no bag, nah)
Mr. Denim Boy ([?])
Mr. Denim Boy (Dead man can’t wear no jeans, nah)
Mr. Denim Boy (Dead man can’t rock no shorts, nah)
Mr. Denim Boy (Dead man can’t rock no bag, nah)
Mr. Denim Boy ([?])

[Post-Chorus]
They don’t wanna see you win
They don’t wanna see
They don’t wanna see you win
They don’t wanna see
They don’t wanna see you win
They don’t wanna see
They don’t wanna see me get that trophy
Little do they know, this that prophecy, uh

[Bridge?]
I know y’all don’t like this shit, uh-huh
I make fire, I’ll light this bitch, uh-huh
I know y’all don’t like this shit, uh-huh
I make fire, I’ll light this bitch, uh-huh
I know y’all don’t like this shit, uh-huh
I make fire, I’ll light this bitch, uh-huh
I know y’all don’t like this shit
I’ll light this bitch, I’m the problem kid

[Verse 2]
“This shit hot, I like this idea! Yo, Ean, when can we shoot?”
Fuck all that, huh, and fuck y’all too, y’all best give me my loot
Put you on mute, next channel on cue
Which comedy do I choose?
But don’t move!
Keep that same frame, don’t try to refrain
Stay on your lane, lane
Stay being lame, lame
Big dogs chained, chained
No you can’t tame, tame
Run this party down south
First album out, how do y’all like the way this shit sounding now?
Fuck all y’all! Put me on a call
Tell a bro he pussy on God
My dot colored red, the day is today
Fuck two hooks, got more shit to say
They ran out of talent, that shit wasn’t talent
They got no substance, doing no justice
I’m running, and gunning, I’m tough like callous
They funny, and punning, I’m charming like palace
They think they’re boss, like Rick Ross
Thinking they’re tough, but out doing TikToks
Boy you look stupid, small like Cupid
Grow a fake life, boy?
No, I ain’t rooting