Damn

(Like damn) Like damn Soto back in the mix, they like damn See me stacking my chips, they like damn Getting shade from a fan, I'm like damn Oh she ain't mention a man, I'm like damn Soto back in the mix, they like damn See me stacking my chips, they like damn Getting shade from a fan, I'm like damn Oh she ain't mention a man, I'm like damn My apologies All I did was look Got her freaky talking sodomy Thinking I'm a ticket, trying to come up off the lottery Pardon me Got her goin dumb, no lobotomy Matter fact brainless Making panties drop like a mother fucker famous Clearly ima pop Name ringing like a stainless Put 'em out they misery, Saint Luis Rams No competition when it come to the pen I'm like damn Soto back in the mix, they like damn See me stacking my chips, they like damn Getting shade from a fan, I'm like damn Oh she ain't mention a man, I'm like damn Pulling these strings like loose tooth Shit I feel like number Three Ouu! Soto Babe Ruth Shooting for the stars Need me that grey coupe Want to race them in Wraith So I'm headed to the Stu Heavy on the bars, call it a bench press I been next Just playing chess, put em in check Two steps ahead, smarter never harder Unless I'm in the bed, that's a different kind of order Been around the block, in and out a couple daughters Man Soto know a lot She remember what I taught her Replace for a pencil Colder then Minnesota Now I slaughter instrumentals like I'm working toward a quota Stacks, need em Snakes, weed em Don't got a bone to pick with the hoes I just leave em And she don't want to be another reason that I'm snapping on the beat Cause clearly I'm a lyrical demon Like damn! Remember they was shook about the plan Then I real started cooking, now they looking for a pan Like damn! Time to saran wrap These bland ass, acting mother fuckers who can't snap Been in the lab like Dexter Time to put on a show The car tuned, now I'm ready to go This the end of the road for all you lame ass trifling hoes I can't stand that Couldn't catch a flow with a Tampax Verbally strapped, lyrical assassin This ain't even half my bag, I'm just yapping Fire on demand, I feel like Aroldis Chapman Heat it up, then I shut down, closed casket