| Chance, acid rapper, soccer, hacky sacker
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| Cocky khaki jacket jacker
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| Slap-happy faggot slapper, bah-bah
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| Iraqi rocket launcher
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| Shake that Laffy Taffy, jolly raunchy rapper
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| Dang, dang, dang, skeet, skeet, skeet
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| She do that thing for three retweets
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| The album feel like '92
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| Now take that ball 'fore he three-peat
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| Chance, ho, acid, cruising on that LSD
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| Asked Joseph about my deal
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| He looked back said, «Hell yeah, let’s eat»
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| This shit my favorite song, you just don’t know the words
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| But I still fuck with you, you just ain’t never heard
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| It go like, count that stack, pop that cap then down that Jack
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| All my niggas hit that xan, and all my ladies bob that back
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| This my jam, this my jam, this my jam, this my jam
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| I’m 'bout that jam, I’m 'bout that jam, I’m 'bout that jam, I’m 'bout that jam
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| This my jam, this my jam, this my jam, this my jam
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| I’m 'bout that jam, I’m 'bout that jam, I’m 'bout that jam, I’m bout that jam
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| Young Rascal Flatts, young ass kid ass could rap
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| Fuck all the faculty, tobacco-packing acrobat
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| Back-to-back packin' bags back and forth with fifths of Jack and
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| Fourths of weed, I’m back to pack on hands
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| With young Cletus to pat my back
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| Real nigga with a nose ring, that’s right
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| Just here to rap them songs
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| Rag on my hair, wrap weed in Vegas, rockin' Vagabonds
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| Sang a song, oh, you don’t know? |
| What?
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| Well, I still bang with you
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| Hang with you, sip drank with you
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| As long as I can sang with you like
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| This shit my favorite song, you just don’t know the words
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| But I still fuck with you, you just ain’t never heard
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| It go like, count that stack, pop that cap then down that Jack
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| All my niggas hit that xan, and all my ladies bob that back
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| This my jam, this my jam, this my jam, this my jam
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| I’m 'bout that jam, I’m 'bout that jam, I’m 'bout that jam, I’m 'bout that jam
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| This my jam, this my jam, this my jam, this my jam
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| I’m 'bout that jam, I’m 'bout that jam, I’m 'bout that jam, I’m bout that jam
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| Niggas, please be focused, that Bino, you know this
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| He rep the home of Sosas, you know I’m from that Zone 6
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| You know I rep that Stone shit, you know your hood is so clit
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| As God as my witness, this Will Smith spit real shit
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| I’ma be that, CG busy gettin', where the weed at?
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| Bought your girl some new kneepads
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| You’re fuckin' with the Fifi bag
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| My stars, egad, she said, «This my favorite song»
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| «Hold my purse», now she on the floor, droppin' like it’s hot
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| You blast this shit in Abercrombie when your work is finished
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| Your mom won’t play it in the car 'cause it got cursing in it
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| Your boy like, «I'm the one who showed you»
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| He want his percentage
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| 'Cause you were like, «This ain’t the nigga you said spittin', is it?»
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| Two-step, white dude’s Harlem Shake
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| Why you laughing? |
| 'Cause you Harlem Shake
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| I was never fake, I was just too good to be true
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| That’s acid rap, we killed the track
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| You had your chance, and 'Bino too, ooh
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| This shit my favorite song, you just don’t know the words
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| But I still fuck with you, you just ain’t never heard
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| It go like, count that stack, pop that cap then down that Jack
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| All my niggas hit that xan, and all my ladies bob that back
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| This my jam, this my jam, this my jam, this my jam
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| I’m 'bout that jam, I’m 'bout that jam, I’m 'bout that jam, I’m 'bout that jam
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| This my jam, this my jam, this my jam, this my jam
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| I’m 'bout that jam, I’m 'bout that jam, I’m 'bout that jam, I’m bout that jam |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Favorite Song , by - Chance The Rapper. Song from the album Acid Rap, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп