GET OUT
[Verse 1]
I've prolly wrote this song a hundred times by now
What's even more depressing is my lack of know-how
Can I write a fuckin' song? Can I even fuckin' rap?
Can I even make money, is that what you call a rack?
Shit I'm ready for war, but I ain't live in Chiraq
In fact I'm strapped wit the pack, I never lack on attack
I'm not no lyrical miracle, I'm a typical cynical
Guess you call this an interlude, sign me up for the interview
I can't get out of this loop, I need a helping hand
Been rapping for a year, bet you can barely stand
All my half-assed shit, all that's inadequate
Yeah, I guess I'm an advocate yet I'm an under graduate
Never thought I was passionate, yet I'm runnin' the game
Stop comparing me to others, do it look like we the same?
I could slap ya fuckin' jaw and squeeze the blood up out ya brain
So just zip your fuckin' lips, unless you tryna entertain
Lick the tip of my dick, with your lil' bitch-ass
Shawty lickin' her lips, I slap that lil' bitch ass
Everyone I know is movin' way too fast
I guess I'll meet 'em in LA for the Victory Lap
All my rhymes signed, sealed, and delivered on time
You a lil punk-ass, you steppin' way outta line
You steppin onto the track, train is on it's way quick
Your lack of apologies really makes me sick
[Hook]
Where the cash at, where the cash at? (uh-huh)
Where ya pass at, where ya stash at? (uh-huh)
Bet my last rack you ain't have that (uh-huh)
Why? 'Cause you a muthafuckin-fuckin-fuckin'
[Verse 2]
Street punks can't dunk, bitch boy, go flunk
Shipyard, shit sank, GOYARD, Leather Face
Shawty says you sweet but you ain't got no motherfuckin' cake
And I'm not fond of fibbers, slice your liver leave you in ya grave
I shine, you whine, yo bitch stay grinding
Catch me in the west, boots with the white lining
Fuck ya mama and her mama, leave her ass on read
But nah, I really fucked ya mama, go check the bed spread
Who the fuck I'm talkin' to, tell me if you're listenin'
Take out all ya homies, leave ya gang in decommissioning
I'm just fuckin' playin', that was just the preconditioning
My .44 is stiffening yo bitch just want the drizzling
[Hook]
Where the cash at, where the cash at? (uh-huh)
Where ya pass at, where ya stash at? (uh-huh)
Bet my last rack you ain't have that (uh-huh)
Why? 'Cause you a muthafuckin-fuckin-fuckin'
[Verse 3]
Buckshot, buckeye, fly up to Ohio
We shoot and take the loot, what the fuck is this, Chicago?
You met your fuckin' maker, keep the ammo for my rivals
Your blue bands micro, I might go phsyco!
You see what I mean? I swear this shit overplayed
In the end it's the same shit on a whole different day
So I really can't be happy, but you'll never catch me sappy
So I'll always be on top no matter what you fuckin' say, lil' bitch