Lyrics

Yeah You should shut the fuck up when you talk to me Human probablies, lil' ego monopolies All they care about's possession, walkin' apostrophes Trust me, they try, can't no one alive copy me Hate a friend that when I try deposit my truth They just always try withdraw from me You could catch me, wait No, you could never catch me, open, Klay, never pass me Bitch, I could walk in Heaven sassy, for real Apologies, you rappers is too posh for me All you look like dinosaurs, Chris Bosh to me All hard and stuck all in your ways like a fossil be, shit They don't make clean versions for dirty laundry Diehard Knicks fan but support the Warriors closetly Don't tell my people Wet wife beater, y'all do see-through Derek Jeter of the Neumann microphone I'm really outside, y'all type of clones type of home I man up, even when I'm in this type of fuckin' zone I'm type prone to type a poem, type to own all the shit I'm typin' So get the fuck out my face My mama always tell me, "Don't talk like that" I be like, "Mom, it's how I've walked like that" If I don't gas me up, who gon' got my back? She said, "Fuck it, baby, talk your smack" Bitch, I'm all that Fuck your bag of chips Bitch, I'm all that Fuck your bag of chips Okay, okay This beat sound like reasonable doubt Puttin' pressure on the game 'til I'm squeezin' you out (yeah) Say a prayer, grab the polie, then I'm leavin' the house Been broken, been poor, now it's evenin' out (now we up) That's why it's fuck your bag of chips (yeah) Don't get your cabbage split Bitch, I'm all that (ah), sort of like a asterisk (woo) Yo, Marlon, we craftin' a classic Went out of town with the sound and came back with a package (skrrt) Rhyme pattern sick (sick), I reside by the strip (strip) All eyes on my 'fit ('fit), y'all guys don't exist (uh-uh) Major distribution, got 'em playin' this in Houston (yeah, what?) Rap's free, I'm just chargin' for my labor that I'm usin' (ooh) Switch routes, what's a drought? (Yeah) Smoking good at my house Eat while I sleep while you thirst for the clout (ah-ha) Delgado, I'm a Backwood spokesman (yeah) When you coughin' up a lung, brodie, that's good smokin', woah My mama always tell me, "Don't talk like that" I be like, "Mom, it's how I've walked like that" If I don't gas me up, who gon' got my back? She said, "Fuck it, baby, talk your smack" Bitch, I'm all that Fuck your bag of chips Bitch, I'm all that Fuck your bag of chips
Writer(s): Hakan Mavruk, Buddy Tate, Marlon Cirker Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
instagramSharePathic_arrow_out