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Joyner LucasJoyner Lucas 

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Joyner Lucas

Gary Maurice "Joyner" Lucas, Jr. (born August 17, 1988) is an American poet, singer, rapper and songwriter from Worcester, Massachusetts currently signed to Atlantic Records. He gained widespread exposure and critical acclaim after the release of his single "Ross Capicchioni" in 2015. In 2017, he released his fourth mixtape (and first on a major label). more »

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Ahh, shit
Joyner!

Yo, nigga's saying, "What a great battle"
But you about to see a fucking snake rattle
Boy, you just a pony with a pink saddle
I'm truly sorry that you stuck inside of Drake's shadow
When are you gon' overcome? (Huh)
When are you gon' level up?
When are you gon' grow another foot? (Huh)
When are you gon' show us that you number one? (When)
And everything that you accomplished in some years about to take me just a couple months
Don't you think I'm bluffing neither
I thought you were tougher, eager (Damn)
How you almost signed to Justin Bieber?
You look like a fuckin' beaver (Haha)
Ten years in the game but yo' ass still sittin' on the fucking bleachers
Boy, you just another diva (Just another diva)
Heard yo' grandmama kicked you out the house screaming
"Tory, we don't fucking need you"
Why yo' daddy up and leave you? (Why)
I guess this is how they fucking treat you
And you my puppet, you my Cousin Skeeter
This ain't what you wanted, they been waiting for it
I'm Joyner Lucas, what the f*ck you niggas take me for
(What the f*ck)
I pull up in a Demon but I kill Satan for it
If you want attention Tory you gon' have to pay me for it
All these hoes love me but you sucker niggas hate me for it
You roll up on me, catch a shot at ya Mercedes door
The bullets fly, you recline like a La-Z-Boy
All you do is cry, you a child, you my baby boy
You call yourself Tory after The Notorious Big (Yeah)
Biggie turning in his grave when he hear yo' shit
Don't ever think that you could ever come compare yo' shit
Little girls and kids only ones who feel yo' shit
I skipped the plaques on my way to a Grammy
All your records soft and sweet, niggas think that you candy
Your niggas really convinced you that you think you can scare me
And you got identity issues, niggas think you a tranny, really? (Damn)
Tory tell us why you always gotta lie in your rhymes (Why)
I know keeping up with lies can get tiring sometimes
You not a G and deep down you wanna hide sometimes
Staring at the sunshine and start crying sometimes
Your real name is Daystar, you been dying to shine
And when you sing you kinda sound like you dying sometimes
You make the type of tracks that had me feelin' silent inside
Nobody take you serious, put all the violence aside
Okay, let's talk about your plagiarism that you hate to mention (Yeah)
Or talk about the hate you giving to the greats you dissing
(Let's talk about it)
And that writer who wrote yo' shit still ain't get paid on that "Don't Die" record
You should probably go pay the nigga (Yeah, man)
And how the f*ck you talk about Kendrick when he a legend (Huh)
Then go bite the nigga style on your record right at the ending
On 4AM Flex 2 minutes and 50 seconds
Sound exactly like the Art of Peer Pressure, go take a listen
You inspired by the niggas you name dropped
Catch fire in the rain, no umbrella to shelter you and no rain drops
When I seen you on Flex, I gave props
But then we found out you stole Don Q shit from the train stop
You thought you were fly 'til the plane drop
Ugly motherfucker tryna stunt in a tank top
It's no wonder why they used to feed yo' ass with a slingshot
You my son, this the last time I'll give you a Ring Pop
Sit down, you on punishment
And don't get up until you see me
And don't even think about touching that TV
No more video games, no more phone, no more 3D
No more radio or boombox for your weak ass CD
Matter of fact, give me your chains back and everything I bought you
You a disgrace to this family and everything I taught you
I hate to say it son but you make me sick
I should'a knew you weren't shit when you came out with a baby dick
It's no wonder why you pay for pussy
Tory you think you slick
All you do is lounge around the house all day like a lazy prick
Shit, highly disappointed in you son, I need some answers
How come you couldn't follow in my steps and be a dancer?
Or maybe write a book like me or be somebody's grandpa
Instead you wanna be a fucking rapper with some hair plugs
No more rapping, give me your pen and paper
No more lying to the people on how you the biggest gangster
Now hurry up and get your juicy out the refrigerator
You going to bed at eight o'clock and not a minute later
No, I don't wanna hear it
No, let this be a lesson
Close your mouth and go into your room like I suggested
I'm a get real Joe Jackson in a second
Matter of fact, give me your toys, I'm adding that to the collection
I just did a show and got it lit ya little nigga
And my freestyles killing your originals nigga
Couldn't name a bitch I couldn't get ya little nigga
You a rebound, even Scottie Pippen know nigga
You ain't from Toronto, put that on the Bible
I put six hollows in your Ferragamo
Nigga, you from Brampton, go spin the bottle
Bitch I'm from New England, me and Brady in the El Dorado
Now come get on my level, I'm hard as metal
I bomb the ghetto, I brought the shovel
I bury all of you little ninja turtles
You Donatello, you soft as Jel-O
You must be gone off that Amaretto
It's hard to tell 'cause you soft as pillows
You fucking midget, I call you Elmo
I throw you out a fucking car window
I step all over your Margielas, you caught feelings
Yo' heart spinning, my bars illing
I'm Bob Dylan, I'm John Lennon, I'm authentic
Your bars running no off limits
Don't talk business, don't talk, listen
I'm off this so you f*ck this you f*ck! Nigga

What, nigga
F*ck out my face nigga
Ay nigga look
We gon' get one in, pause
Let's not, let's not do this back and forth shit no more
I, I think we know what's up, you know
Ha ha ha, Joyner

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