Lyrics Fist of the North Star - Father

Fist of the North Star

I think I’m Fist of the North Star
I like coupes, not sports cars
What’s that smell?
That’s bergamot
I ride around Hell with my shirt off
With a flirt, uh
She got her skirt off
She give me slurp, dawg
She give me slurp, dawg
Know some wild niggas get you merked off
Might fuck around and start a fuckin' turf war
Monkey, my back, oh, Ape Escape
Donkey, her ass, it’s big, it’s fake
I don’t give a fuck, I want that cake
I’ma put it on my plate
She gon' put it on my face
I’m gon' hit them with this 'K
Why can’t niggas just behave?
I’m gon' take it to my grave
Sack on me now, yeah
Racks on me now, yeah
Bought baby mama that brand new Rihanna
Her makeup don’t run when I’m dickin' her down
Bought myself a brand new Ruger
Bought her some titties, some brand new hooters
Niggas be cucks and fuckin' losers
Tryna maneuver how I maneuver (Yeah)
I think I’m Fist of the North Star
I like coupes, not sports cars
What’s that smell?
That’s bergamot
I ride around Hell with my shirt off
With a flirt, uh
She got her skirt off
She give me slurp, dawg
She give me slurp, dawg
Know some wild niggas get you merked off
Might fuck around and start a fuckin' turf war
I am not a role model
Pull out and buss on her Monroe
Pull out dat .38 on Melrose
They screamin', «Ay, Dios mío»
My jeweler tryna ice me out
This floozy tryna ask me out
This pussy bouncer pat me down
Got big boy ounces on me now
She gon' gimme ass and throat
I’ma paint her like Van Gogh
I make a bitch’s life and go
The pussy perfect, pipe her slow
Keep the pack, let’s hit the slopes
Iceman in her nose
Coupe the color common cold
Hunnid band, she hit the pole
I think I’m Fist of the North Star
I like coupes, not sports cars
What’s that smell?
That’s bergamot
I ride around Hell with my shirt off
With a flirt, uh
She got her skirt off
She give me slurp, dawg
She give me slurp, dawg
Know some wild niggas get you merked off
Might fuck around and start a fuckin' turf war