Tonalidad: Bb minor
Verse 1
yeah, yeah, yeah
no motherfuckin' ribbon
lucky you
Verse 2
Verse 3
my back to the wall
Turn my back on you all
it's back to the job
Back on my hood shit, it's
These packs and I'm
actually pumpin'
Can't fuck with you rappers,
You mighta went platinum but
I'm actually buzzin' this time
I told them the oven is mine
If I don't kill you, just know
got some bangers
a pear tree
My twelve days of Christmas
You play your cards, I reverse on you all
And I might just draw four
like a Uno
They debated the level,
I've been to ghetto to ghetto
never find now
beef die down
me tied down
I've been alone and I nev
these niggas to lie down
I never wanted the lifestyle
I just pray to God that
the other side
Or anyone who ever want
down the wrong path
Nigga wrong way, wrong road
lawn mower
Verse 4
I sold my soul to get 'em
Wasn't in it for the trophies,
just the fuckin' recognition
Fuck's the difference?
fuck the rules
Man I used to risk it all,
now I got too much to lose
I been eatin' long enough,
man my stomach should be full
I just ate, lick the plate,
my buffet, lucky me
Fuck you think? (Woo!)
Verse 5
I don't have any manners
But to these kids,
it don't actually matter
They're askin' me "What
the fuck happened to hip-hop?"
dropped my last album
on these rappers
humble beginnings
I'm somewhat uncomfortable winning
wonderful feeling!"
We're on the upswing like we're
But nothin' is feeling like anyone
has any fuckin' ability
the inability to pin humility
Hatata batata, why don't we
make a bunch of fuckin'
Songs about nothin' and mumble!
you clowns that are comin' up
Don't give an ounce of a motherfuck
About the ones that were here before
on tape decks
We need 3 Stacks ASAP,
Because half of these rappers
have brain damage
face tats, syruped out like tree sap
But in fact, where the old me at? The same
cat that would take that
They know what button to press
or what lever to pull
To get me the snap though (lil' bitch)
And if I pay it attention
I'm probably makin' it bigger
But you've been takin' the dicks
In the fuckin' back, ho (get it?)
Got me thinkin' of finishin' everything
I'm asleep at the wheel again
As I peak into thinkin'
up eatin' a pill again
at least 70 to 300 milligram
And I might as well 'cause I'ma
end up bein' a villain again
You could never say to me I'm not
a fuckin' record breaker
time I break a record
I never cater
Motherfucker now I got
But I wrote 'til the wheels fall off,
It's the moment y'all been waitin' for
Like California wishin'
rain would pour
And that drought y'all
have been prayin' for
My downfall from the 8 Mile
to the Southpaw
Still the same Marshall that outlaw
That they say as a writer
might've fell off
I'm back on that bull like the cowboy
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5.0 (2)
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