6" God

[Intro: *Hunter S. Thompson sample* & D-sisive]
“There he goes. One of God's own prototypes. A high-powered mutant of some kind never even considered for mass production. Too weird to live, and too rare to die”
Running through the six with my bomb

[Verse 1: D-sisive]
Home is where my heart beats, where my coat and my hat hang
Where the haters aim spit at your Batwing
‘Cause every hater is a rapper with a rap name
You will never hear of, but in they bedroom mirror they see Kanye in they camo Foot Locker thermal spitting
Whatever diarrhea they had written
To whatever Chief Keef beat they had sitting on they PCs
Combine the two and get a feast of fucking feces
Between choruses sung with weak harmonizing
Through autotune that sounds like a fax machine dialing
A fax machine played on 93.5 and
This is the toilet where I swim
Home is filled with class clowns
Where Drake Graham says ‘mans’ and speaks BaKardi Slang now
Where we actually believe we’re on the map now
But the planet only wants to hear one of us rap now
I don’t care if DJ Trap from Idaho
Played your shitty Chief Keef dub on his college show
At 5 in the morning, when Idahoans’ eyes are closed and
Smiling and snoring, dreaming about they shite recordings
Your genetics aren’t designed to blow
Your genetics are designed to mop up Taco Bell’s dining floor
And dream of one day climbing up that high promotion
Putting cheese on beef till you retire, holmes
Home is where the buffalo roam
Rap about the Rolls Royce then take the bus alone home
In old torn Hulk Mark Ruffalo clothes
Running tings, but couldn’t book a Buffalo show
Call a sports bar and book a Buffalo show
Poster Walden Galleria letting Buffalo know
The king of Cheektowaga’s on Buffalo soil
Performing his hits while all of Buffalo’s home
Yell at the soundman ‘cause his muffled dope quotes
Aren’t loud enough for the bored Buffalo ghosts

[Interlude]
“Prices slashed at Lockport Gambino Ford
Free hot dogs for the kids!”

[Verse 2: D-sisive]
Home is where my heart beats
Where my hat and my coat hang
Where yesterday’s news ignore they toe tag
And spend they whole day remembering when
Stuck in 1997 when they 12-inch was pressed
And won’t accept nobody wants to hear they record again
They’ll never be the center of attention again
I don’t mean to be mean or disrespectful to them
But it’s hard to be respectful when you’re better than them
And you get dissed like you’re the reason their relevance is dead
Grampa forgot to take today’s medicine again
A shattered lightbulb, a dim-lit star
Melted ice cream, a six-inch god
Go fuck your mother

[Outro: *Anchorman sample*]
“Dorothy Mantooth is a saint, you understand me? Dorothy Mantooth is a saint!”