| Deleted User Collection of nobodies  |
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| [Verse 1: A$AP Rocky] Feeling like a vigilante or a missionary Tell my A$AP killers get they pistols ready Send 'em to the cemetary with obituaries Don't be scared, nigga, is you ready? I've been thinking 'bout all the O's in my bank account X the O's in my bed is 'round the same amount Ever since this new star fame came about Or ever since me and Drizzy started hangin' out Young boy, let his gun bang, let his nuts hang Transition to a Lamborghini from a Mustang Drugs slang in the drug game with the hustling (I know one thing) Anything is better than that 1 train Bag made of Goyard, cheffin' like I'm Boyar- Dee, probably selling D in your local courtyard Braids like I'm O-Dog, my la familia go hard Down to my inlaws, they outlaws with no laws [Verse 2: Kendrick Lamar] We outlawed then I bogart, any pros that got 'proached at With a toe-tag, get broke off, in the projects with a skateboard I roll past and I blaze y'all like, "DOO DOO!" I hate y'all When the beef cooked, I ate y'all like, "Mmm mmm," let's play ball In a ballpark with all sharks and a blindfold, I rhyme cold My K hot, your 9 cold, that bark like K9 drone That banana clip, straight from the rip I'll make that shirt say RIP, I'm on some shit If I'm not the hottest then Hell must've froze over You thought it was safe then forgot what the code was I carry traits of a traumatized soldier Don't look in my face, I might snap, I might choke ya Spine right out of place, give me dap like you 'posed ta Darts at your posters, dark nights like this I metamorph like I'm 'posed ta, I might slice my wrist Or pretend like a vulture and drop off this cliff [Verse 3: Joey Bada$$] Barely even conscious, talking to my conscience Gettin' deeper in these flows like conches I'm on my convict, don't drop bars, I drop prisons Don't sell rocks seen the spectrum through the prisms Somehow bypassed the bias and the -isms The violence and the killin', so given They seen my pigment and thought that was the ign'ance Unfortunately I am not that type of niglet But pass the pot let me skillet Just got back to the block from a 6 o'clock with Jigga And I'm thinkin' 'bout signin' to the Roc But my niggas on the block still assigned to the rocks And I swear it hurt me soul I try to prevail, but when I preach it only hurt their sales Like you're only gon' end up either dead or in jail But you my nigga, wish you the best for real [Verse 4: Yelawolf] When you mention my name amongst other white rappers Or for that matter, any fuckin' rapper, fuck it Painter, skater, musician, trailer park dirt ditch diggin' Burger flippin', eat, sleep, shittin' human bein', you would be in Trouble to body double or couple me to these others Cause comparatively speakin', my reach is beyond the bubble That they put me in, my vision's beyond the Hubble's I huddle with Nubians, new beginning again You in school at 10, late, Radioactive's goin' gold And so? GREAT. Do I give a flying duck If I'm applyin' love to my rhymin' plus alignin' us? Alabama's climbin' up, wait, no I don't give a Flying duck, nothing but a buckshot, Ch, pow! Motherfuck your life, pussy blood clot Ain't never been no rapper this cold since 2Pac was froze And thawed out for spot date at a Coachella show, Yelawolf [Verse 5: Danny Brown] Weed a different color like a hoodrat bra and panties And my flow be overhead like pots and pans in pantries Antsy cause I'm high like Michael Jackson penny loafers Moonwalkin' on the sun, barefoot, with shades on Bitch pussy smell like a penguin Wouldn't hit that shit with my worst enemy's penis Bitch when I say this I mean this: "Ho, I'm the meanest" Dick so big, stretch from Earth to Venus That molly got me nauseous, on shit, no off switch Lawless, obnoxious, on that "suck my cock" shit That is my synopsis, ostrich pot shit Hoes on some God shit, stop it! You not this! Novice, regardless, heartless and awkward Cryin' tears of vodka prima donna at the concert Adonis smokin' chronic 'bout to vomit gin and tonic Just bein honest, tell me, isn't that ironic? [Verse 6: Action Bronson] Swiftly, I shift the Bimmer 860 A heavy smoker so you know I brought the Blake with me The moon’s reflection off the lake hit me You should've stayed with me Now many Asian bitches lay with me The face is silky like a tablecloth My shorty gallop in the morning on the beach like a Chilean horse Red roses drop on boxes very often Confetti torture, drinking Henny like I'm Kenny Lofton Outstandin' I fixed the game between Georgia Southern and Grambling You see us scrambling, selling Susan Sarandon The cloud of smoke like the phantom Damn this shit tastes like fantastic You see me comin' through in each state Just so the lord could put the fork inside the cheesecake Cuffed to my wrist I’ve got the briefcase The gavel slam, I’m a free man, try not to eat ham [Verse 7: Big K.R.I.T.] Big KRIT, shawty Spit like my last breath: casket rap, six deep Eyes closed, the black is back, out come the 'Lac with flats After that, bottles I can’t pronounce, like, “How you ask for that?” Why you ask for crack and all you had was scratch? All I had was rap, when all they had was wack All I wanted was love, all they had was dap Fuck them haters and fuck them hoes and cherish your wins The aftermath, ask LeBron, open palm slap a bitch Walk the plank or break a bank, I’ve been in the business of sinkin' ships Chokin' niggas out with the anchors that they anchor with Resuscitations cost the label, I’m taxing if you want a hit Clear, fuck your career, bitch, I was born here Been a killer, ‘86er, nigga, that’s my born year Get the fuck from ‘round here, that’s just my country ways Suckin' on your momma’s titty, bitchin' while I was choppin' blade Grippin’ grain, fuckin’ hoes, candy paint like Everglades Miss me with that rapper chatter, take that shit up with my bass I put that on my sub, how could you ever doubt me? Most rappers hoping the world end so they won’t have to drop another album B.B. King saw the king in me, so why can’t you? In order to come up close, you’ll have to dig up Cash and Elvis, too Muddy water flow, Dixie rebel past Fuck your Louis flag, popping benji tags on your wifey’s ass That’s out of line, but in living color? I’m more like Miya Bailey on you rap motherfuckers, a true artist |
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