| On to the next spot like I’m just tryna cruise
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| I don’t wanna fuck with cops, I got a gram of weed up in my shoes (In my shoes)
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| You know the ones, the Muska 901s
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| I’ve been tryna find a fresh pair on eBay wit' no luck (No luck)
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| Yeah, I’m like what the fuck I gotta do to impress? |
| (Impress)
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| You only fuck with each other, that shit is incest (Incest)
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| I want the love 'cause y’all are fake with all the respects
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| So give me the ball and let me shoot, I haven’t missed yet (Missed yet)
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| The fucking misfitted rapper, what’s got these people listenin'
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| Ever since high school I’ve been the target to start some shit with
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| Get on the mic and I’m goin' off on the lookin' nitwits
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| So you got some issues with homie? |
| I got the whole subscription
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| Listenin' to all this radio, you swear it’s gospel (Swear it’s gospel)
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| And I’m more like a mix of R.L. Stine and graphic novels (Graphic novels)
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| Michael Postle, some rejects that you’ve been writin' off
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| And comin' back to haunt you motherfuckers when the lights are gone
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| Yeah, make a fuss
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| Takin' the game and we shake it up
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| We’ll probably never make the cut
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| But none of us ever gave a fuck (Gave a fuck)
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| And they like «why you killin' it in every verse?"(In every verse)
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| Man, I only work this hard 'cause I’m so insecure
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| So put your hands up if you ain’t ready to die
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| And give a damn about the hate, we just take it and stride
|
| And tell 'em fuck that, we ain’t ready to go
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| We killed the game young, hungry, and bold, let’s go
|
| And put your hands up if you ain’t ready to die
|
| And give a damn about the hate, we just take it and stride
|
| And tell 'em fuck that, we ain’t ready to go
|
| We killed the game young, hungry, and bold, let’s go
|
| Yeah, I bring the thunder like I’m Odin’s son (Odin's son)
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| The way I grip the mic like holdin' on to golden gun (Golden gun)
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| And blowin' up if any rapper talkin' shit again
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| I’m on my Mortal Kombat shit like finish him (Finish him)
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| We Independent, this a movement, man, this ain’t a hobby
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| I’m on my Logic shit like I don’t fuck with nobody (Nobody)
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| We got the club popping
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| But yo my social anxiety got me needing to get the fuck out like right now
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| I’m droppin' nerd shit on every single song I’m on
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| Until my shows are lookin' like a San Diego Comic-Con
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| And y’all about as edgy as some white suburban soccer moms
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| And this more captivating than a Tarantino monologue (Monologue)
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| Applaud the god but I’m steppin' on to the stage
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| I’m like a cosmonaut the way I’m manuverin' through this space
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| A new phenomenon of music when I’m landin' in the place
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| I know the aftershock I leave will be felt in all fifty states
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| Uh, the next phase of this game and I am the future (Future)
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| It’s Tom Holland takin' the place of Robert Downey Jr. (Robert Downey Jr.)
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| On my Stephen King shit, leadin' the club of losers
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| 'Bout to take down these clowns with a few words, yeah (Few words)
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| See I’m more ready than ever
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| 'Cause when the labels didn’t want me I just made my shit better
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| Learned to build it on my own without anybody to help
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| And when the labels call now I’m like «go to hell»
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| So put your hands up if you ain’t ready to die
|
| And give a damn about the hate, we just take it and stride
|
| And tell 'em fuck that, we ain’t ready to go
|
| We killed the game young, hungry, and bold, let’s go
|
| And put your hands up if you ain’t ready to die
|
| And give a damn about the hate, we just take it and stride
|
| And tell 'em fuck that, we ain’t ready to go
|
| We killed the game young, hungry, and bold, let’s go |