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niggas they can't read me
Keep my phone on DND a slim chance you probably reach me
Stabbed in my back so many times I'm battling the reaper
Im still gone
that new rap? Nah this that boom box
Watch your back or you'll get hit wit two shots, oh
Living by the day, gets worse every minute
Almost ending? Nah
We were so close yet so far away
Used to turn to dad and say
Can we see John today
To go an watch back to back of the phone shop
Once we going we
Its bikelyfe when we ride
How you think that you gon slide
When we a hunnit deep outside 
It’s a slingshot in the front 
It’s a Harley in the back 
Got
Please refrain from calling me your son and call me by my name

You hating you hating you just like a satan
Tryna mess up my shit damn that's a invasion
came to see you spit your game, oh-oh
But it shouldn't be difficult to explain
Just why you came back again, you hate the fame
Love the game, cold
Back to the hood where they don't
Understand unless you speakin' "trapanese"
If I fall down bet I only trampoline
Bounce back thinking ima fall off
Well a few years back me and ol' John worked the Calgary rodeo. 
We were hangin' around town with nothing to do, nowhere else to go. 
Cowboys are
but they all to blame
Pointing fingers but they all to blame
You gotta get that shit by any means
You gotta get that shit right with yo team
You gotta
Sheep
I have a horned sheep
With a pound of wool on its back
Grazing by the riverside
Amongst the little stones
But a bailiff came by
Sending his dog
We called 'em football heads when we'd sell 'em
We was goin' fed, movin' football heads, called it Helga
Codeine by the lean-a, pounds of gasoline-a,
to grease my chin
Before I leave this town o

He grabbed the gray goose by the neck
Throwed a duck across his back
He didn't mind the quack, quack, quack
toe tagged

I make yo hoe mad 
Then I give yo back boy you have no swag
Boy you have no sauce nigga I'm too hot 
My niggas too cold I am SubZero 
Shouts
you on the mic for

Because I had to talk about the times that I rhyme
And when m.c.s come in my face, I'm like mace
Because I back them off with
Got fake J's yeah that's for sure
Like your songs you're just a joke
After this you'll be a ghost
John, your music's trash
No thoughts man, that's
Call me John cause I haven't Cena thing
I'll back out my Nina
Left man levitating Dua Lipa (Yeah yeah)
I'm Blowing up like a creeper
Put man into
a Backwood, Swisher sweet blunt, orange lace dope (let's go)
It's just some shit I wrote
My city couldn't be saved by John the Pope (John the Pope)
I slid
I'm buzzing
I spot ah fly
Taking off like a rocket man
Elton John
I'm mr miyagi you Daniel son
Speed it up with you're bitch
I'ma Gunna
I'ma call up my
You are always welcome to back and retire
for you
To bring me to life
But you left me dying
Dying inside

Three piece suit with a piece by the waistline
Just in case a motherfucker wanna
past dawn on your front lawn
Me and Juan ensurin' you that your slut daughter's gone
At the pawn shop, tryna sell this Baume watch
She's a white
Through The Country', let's go John

Down the road where the black top ends
You can find Colt Ford with all his friends
We're used to gravel roads,
just smoke in my eyes
'Cause this ain't no John Hughes movie
Where the girl gets the guy
You look right through me
Every time you walk by
I keep waiting
wastes

Could you turn your back on all these things
I can't abide standing by like a witness to the end of the world 

Mao Tse Tung took the fun right out

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