Rapper of the Year

Yeah (my nigga Sway on the beat, I gotta say that)
Ayy
(Kat, your name's on the beat)
Yeah, yeah, hey

I ain't ever wrote a song, no I don't need no pad or pen
They say I'm rapper of the year, I got them nigga's mad again
Bitch the grind don't ever stop, every day we gettin' it in
Niggas love to rap 'bout opps, I'm finna tell 'em 'bout them bands
Every time I hit the road I come back with at least a ten
If you wake up tryna get some dough then you know what I'm sayin'
They be hatin' on the kid like hoes, them niggas really fans
Man, this shit I just made from this show can't fit inside my pants

Early mornin', woke up to a check, just make me do my dance
Jump on the mic and go dumb on the beat, that shit don't make no sense
I want that bread, but y'all can keep the beef, that shit don't make no bands
I'm in the booth, I'm in here droppin' heat, like bitch go get the fan
Hold on, let me throw my shades on, now I'm in that mode
He weren't tryna get no money early, now that boy too old
Why these haters worry 'bout the kid, bitch go touch your nose
When they see me go and drop that pendant, I might make it snow
See the kid done turned into a star, it's my time to shine
Nigga we ain't even get not sleep, we been too busy on the grind
I go crazy on the beat, they be like, "Where you get your lines"
My bitch bad, I love the way she look at me, she know she fine

I ain't ever wrote a song, no I don't need no pad or pen
They say I'm rapper of the year, I got them nigga's mad again
Bitch the grind don't ever stop, every day we gettin' it in
Niggas love to rap 'bout Opps, I'm finna tell 'em 'bout them bands
Every time I hit the road I come back with at least a ten
If you wake up tryna get some dough then you know what I'm sayin'
They be hatin' on the kid like hoes, them niggas really fans
Man, this shit I just made from this show can't fit inside my pants

I feel like I'm heaven sent, but bitch I gotta give 'em hell
All them bitches that ain't let me hit back then, they on my trail
Niggas tryna come around because this cake, bitch I can tell
Nigga we put gas up in the sky, that's Mary Jane you smell (that's that gas)

Yeah
Skee