虎扑体育网

歌词：

A.T.L., what's up, shawty?

N.Y.C., yo-yo-yo, kid

D-Town, what up doe?

Tony!

Standin' on the speaker, toes brush Khalifa

Powder on the plate that turn your girl into Eureka

Remember, if I don't see it, then I don't believe it

I done did some pretty dumb things on the tequila

Birthday in Vegas, layin' with my weezy

Asked to invite her friends, she like, "Boy, I don't believe ya,"

I'm just tryna live and they turn into evil

My partner is a Crip, the only thing he eat is seafood

School of hard knocks, I can fuck around and teach you (Uh)

License to kill and I just got 'еm renewed (Uh)

Spokе to Def Jam and they talkin' 'bout a renote

[?], and he can pay me in crypto

Bored Ape Yacht Club, yeah, I'm Ricky Steamboat

And you know my vibe, I'm mixin' mine with the pinot

I say scratch that, gone and bring it back like PreemoGone and bring it back like Preemo

You know my set, I'm throwin' dollar signs

I lick her neck and turn the body to a water slide

I'm in the bottom of my bag like some hot fries

Tony, Tony, Tony, Tony, Tony, that my top five

Shit, don't want me swaggin' on this beat

Enough to make Rakim proud of me

You got my math and your bitch ass post something negative, you coulda called me

I'm from the dark side, but the whip lightskin

I do what I wanna do like white men

I hit you in the fucking head with the mic stand

I fuck my girl in the day time on a night stand

You ain't know that, did ya?

Real recognize real and you don't look familiar

I'm from Riverdale Road, we ain't got no river

Got the pole concealed behind the partition, listen

A trap nigga, I perform at bar mitzvah's

A trap nigga, I perform at the Crystals

I ain't gon' fight, but I still tote pistols

Ain't gon' kill ya, all I got to do is whistle (*failed whistle noise*)

Damn, I think my whistle off (Off)

They've been plagiarising, they've been stealing sauce (Sauce)

Soon as I see 'em, I'ma pick 'em off

I got a beard but I must ask Ricky Ross (Huh?)

God took his time with me

Kingpins wanna sign with me

Gunshots is truly Atlanta

While things are goin' left like Julius Randle

I got this shit lit, no need for a candle

Feel like Kyrie, I got this shit handled (Yeah)Feel like Kyrie, I got this shit handled

Walkin' around your party, like where the party at? (Yo, where the party at?)

Yeah, Barcardi and 'Gnac could lead to a cardiac

But I'm drunk and I give a fuck, like how Carti act

I'm already back, I just had to run to my car to yack

Headache, an Aleve, I'ma need eight of 'em

For pete's sake, I've been steppin' on leaf rakes again (Ow)

I keep wakin' up in the bed with complete strangers (The fuck are you?)

And I eat Prazel get more chicks than Pete Davidson

Man, I can't help it, I'm me, I got the Devil in me

Let me put it more delicately

Fuck your feelings, I'm a felon, pussy, you're jealous of me

Prolly 'cause my cerebellum's a parabellum, pussy

Even if I swear to celibacy, I'd still be like a female that's hooking (Why?)

Ain't shit you can do to stop me from sellin', pussy (Oh)

Yeah, warped mind, your rhymes are so fuckin' washed up I call 'em shorelines (Woo)

But as long as a nine year-old's mind is washable

I'ma search 'til I find the most awfullest line as possible (Yeah)

Mind is off, all I need is a small little pint of vodka

To be talked into tryna walk up inside of a Shriner's hospital and gunfire

They're tryna make Marshall the guy responsible

For little Joshua's giant arsenal, like I'm also the reason his .9 is cocked

And he brought his tool and decides to hide it inside of his locker

'Til the next time he's picked on at school

But you're out of your gourd if you're thinkin' that I ain't killin' this beat

I'm not even forcin' myself to vomit, but if I had a fuckin' eatin' disorderOr anorexia,

believe me, I couldn't body this more for ya (Yeah)

Man, I'm beyond childish when I'm on Valiums (Yeah)

Just like mom down's 'em, they call it Munchausen(Why?)

'Cause she hands me some, then says, "C'mon, chow, son

These are non-drowsen, I mean non-drowsy

But they'll help you calm down some,"

So, before I zonk out, I'm tryna make Rob proud

I'm hopin' this song riles him

I pop like nine thousand, I'm outy, five-thousand

(Oh), hold up (One more thing)

Spit syllables on the mic and it move like I'm at Drew's

Even if I wanna lose, I'm in the news, even my interviews get like five million views

I get accused of misogyny because I will massage any bitch just like a masseuse

Fixin' NyQuil, [?], and [?] hide 'em inside of my shoes

Sike

What the fuck? (I'm just playin')

Fuckin' mumble rap