Low Rider (feat. Pyeatt Hitchcock)

They said I wouldn't do it 'em
I said "watch me"
Now I'm on everybody's tongue like hot coffee
There ain't a fucking rapper in the world that can stop me
I'm the real legend, all of y'all is copies
I spit fat bars, never spit anorexic
I never spent 100k on a necklace
But I'll fuck your chick and move on to the next bitch
She call me daddy and you looking like a step-kid
You're not much to step to
You're not getting my bars, I expect you to
After I'm done with ya chick, then she'll text you
Man, you below me, use you as a step stool
I'm at ya neck like Chloraseptic
And you got strep, I'm too complex with
This lyricism and imperialism is accumulating
I know you been hating, but a motherfucker Super Sayan
Got me rampaging, so why the fuck you debating
Huh? Why the fuck you debating?
I'm a master debater, scratch that masturbator
If you interrupting my shit, I won't catch ya later
I can run faster than a tax evader and I'm horrible at math, I always need a calculator, uh
Always need a calculator
Always need a calculator
Uh, you won't catch me outside, 'cause it's too damn cold
I'd rather bash out my eyes
Then have to watch your music vids and listen to you guys, huh
I know that sounds harsh, but I'm just being real that's what you wanted from the start
I'm bouta tear out your heart
And eat it for breakfast
My necklace ain't worth shit, don't gotta protect it

I been bustin' flows
And poppin' ho's
And bumpin' Hov
I go to school so old
But my chains ain't gold
And my beats too bold
And my soul ain't sold
But I done sold some soap in like the seventh grade
A lot of rappers talk all that Heaven game
But I got real soul
Gospel talk, I got that reverend thang
I got a lot of soul so you know, I got a good work ethic
I want lots and lots of money so you know I'm ethnic
Im that half-brown, hash brown, ridin' round downtown
With a funky sound
I ain't got shooters
But I got best friends
And we all got talent
I gotta lot of friends
And we don't have malice
I guess I'm a pusha
Keep on pushin'
Till my solar eclipse
With your bitch on my lips
I got girls on my cock, that's why my last name's Hitch, yuh!
Rappers always talking all that devil shit
But mental on a different level shit
I guess rapping's always been my niche
Came straight out the ditch
I just came here to have fun and spread a message
Came from the south side of Austin, Texas
Now that's a hipster city
I guess you can say I love hipster bitches and hipster titties, yuh, yuh
Daddy from Houston and my momma from Philly
I got culture like really, really
I got culture like really, really, yeah
Soul Money
(Yee)
Yuh

Low rider
I pull up in a low rider
Humid out, like it's Flo Rida
You got my head spinnin' round right round
So come on down to the crib
Lemme show you how we live
Me and Joss, yea we dip, you dip, she dip, he dip, ooo
Me and Joss, yea we dip, you dip, she dip, he dip, ooo, yeah

Low rider
I pull up in a low rider
It's so fire
And I never need a ghost writer
Uh, this shit, it never gets old
Your shit'll never be sold
I'm on my heavenly flow
My checks are seventy fold
I'm never selling my soul
'Cause I don't have one
I can live without one
Tryna cop some clout, son
I can't rap without some

Got ya bitch wet
Like Flo Rida
Ooo, like Flo Rida
Got ya bitch wet
Like Flo Rida
Ooo, like Flo Rida