| Fuck your new man girl, he can suck a dick
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| 'Cause all he is, is a beefed up little pussy bitch
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| It is what it is, I poke fun because I’m a prick
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| But your a tick so bite me, 'cause you make me sick
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| Yeah
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| Dove in like a scuba diver
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| I’m just here so you provide the path that I can use to slaughter you
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| Bitch I would do the honor of screwin' both you, your daughter
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| My dick grew and blew up on her, they call me the unabomber
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| I feel like a lethal weapon
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| My words can beat you to death 'til you bleed out your pee pee section
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| It’s worst than a yeast infection, thy say that I’m least impressive
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| Though I tak this beat and rest it
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| It seems like you have ghost writers, I know 'cause I see the dead and
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| You gotta profound ear, look at me now dear
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| I’m lookin' down here, so high up I’m like a mountaineer
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| Fuck it, I’m downstairs gettin' head on ya mama’s couch bear
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| Cuttin' up so many rhymes, it’s kinda like I put 'em all in tiers, (Like whoa)
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| Don’t get it twisted
|
| These rhymes are offensive
|
| And that’s why you in them
|
| Your name’s on my hit list, but this is
|
| For your entertainment with these words I spit
|
| Each verse I hit, keeps stirrin' shit
|
| So please get off my discourteous dick
|
| Don’t get it twisted
|
| These rhymes are offensive
|
| And that’s why you in them
|
| Your name’s on my hit list, but this is
|
| For your entertainment with these words I spit
|
| Each verse I hit, keeps stirrin' shit
|
| So please get off my discourteous dick
|
| I don’t play no games, straight eyebrows
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| Look at my face, ain’t no smile
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| That’s ain’t my style, these girls gone wild
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| They get too attached so I cut them off like a new born child
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| Better watch now 'cause people gon' browse right through my files
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| Try’na find out how to tear me down
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| But you ain’t gon' do it 'cause you won’t know how
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| You went from somethin' to nothin
|
| I went from nothin' to somethin
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| Oh so you think that I’m bluffin
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| Well ask me again if I’m bluffin
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| People be naggin' and cussin
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| I’m just like why are you buggin
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| Get it, wire you buggin
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| These puns ain’t doing me nothin
|
| This beat is so hot, need an oven mit
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| Might’a just burned myself back when I’m comin' in
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| Y’all better buckle in, I got the double edge sword
|
| So I guess I kill me and this other bitch
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| I just be jugglin' couple of meds, if you wonderin' why I was stumblin
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| Bitch if you call me a knucklehead one more time
|
| You gon' be dead, shoved inside of a duffle bag
|
| I got the bottle of Jack, look at the way that I act
|
| I just be shootin' my shots, but people too scared to shoot back
|
| I don’t know fashion but, I gotta Gucci tat
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| Right on my ballsack, I gotta designer bag
|
| I moved to the south east so if y’all see me on the news at ten
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| For just fuckin' kidnappin' and rapin' a nine year old girl
|
| Understand I’m a Florida man so, better grab the recorded cam and
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| Catch me doing something off rage
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| I’m a pull a pistol on this cashier at Walmart, for givin' me wrong change
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| These words are addictive, it’s too bad you don’t like how I spit shit, bitch
|
| You must be autistic, wait, holy shit
|
| Is it Christmas 'cause I’m gifted from the second that I stepped in
|
| This freakin' game, I’ve been vicious
|
| But this is just not about me, it’s about my explicit shit
|
| That’s got you livid, but listen, just
|
| Don’t get it twisted
|
| These rhymes are offensive
|
| And that’s why you in them
|
| Your name’s on my hit list, but this is
|
| For your entertainment with these words I spit
|
| Each verse I hit, keeps stirrin' shit
|
| So please get off my discourteous dick
|
| Don’t get it twisted
|
| These rhymes are offensive
|
| And that’s why you in them
|
| Your name’s on my hit list, but this is
|
| For your entertainment with these words I spit
|
| Each verse I hit, keeps stirrin' shit
|
| So please get off my discourteous dick |