Lyrics:
to Em(inem) nobody spit this rap
Bring it back, crowd packed
Dog I'm ripping more beats
Carrying the game, just like a baby in a stork's beak
I'm serving
these bitches playing
If they keep on tempting me I'm going super saiyan
I'm balling way too hard I feel like Chris Paul on the open floor
Better take
all the mad dogs
Bad dog now I'm need call my lawyer
And get some tax cuts, tax cuts
The police getting their stick and
Fuck my back up
Fuck me up, I'm
best to be both
But let's be honest a father really helps with your growth
But I was raised by Nas and Jay-Z and Big L and Eminem
All of them set
Way 2
Bitch
1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8
Meet me at da corner store
I'm juugin' I just made a play
1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8
I make one phone call
To my young niggas
They'll
can't even fade our skits eat a dick
[Chorus]
Nigga cross the mob so what's up
In every destination retaliation gotta fuck 'em up
Nigga cross
kill 'em with success
I'm up next like afternoon
You niggas evenin' the playin' scale
It's like the moon
Tryna sunset as the nightmare I rap resumes
You
I drill 'em with skills of ten Eminems
You feminine, don't even call my name
I stay locked down walkin' with a ball and chain
Put the mac where you
Ayy, ayy, ayy
Ayy, ayy, ayy
(Hit-Boy)
Ayy, this that Clipse sample, ayy (G.Ry got me)
Fuck that talkin', let the clip slam 'em
Yellow bands
jack off bitch
I’d rather jack off then deal with that hell of an ex
Yo man it’s a hell of a mess
GIRL: “Scotty’s dead.” (LAUGHS)
Written By: Paul
You get a cock to my youngin
'
Whole bag of O's, we call them Funyuns
I be moving through these trees, real-life Paul Bunyan
I really got it by the P,
a yard in ‘em,
Time gon’ make a liar out of all of us, praying all the trauma was a part of it
Word to the Paul Bearers, be a waste if the drama never
Speaking coughed up, that's ironic that I talk blunt
Call you Lana Rhoades when I shoot cause you all suck
I'm just so embarrassed by the way you bitches act
want to jump, jump
Get'cha make ya pump, Paul
Still gon' miss ya bump, bump
Off a nigga fakin'
Goin' to a richin'
Bitches turn to shaken
Mafioso rule by
to kill every nigga
That stand by him or speak for him
Can you stop actin' like you
Doin' me a favor? Do I seem rattled?
This idiot don't even know he tell
don't give me no mainstream media facts
Matter of fact, fuck the radio, fuck Eminem, and fuck Macklemore
Fuck everything that make em think I don't
ass, ho
Peter-rolled by Koopsta, Crunchy, Juice, Paul, Boo and Scarecrow
Ho, it's a whole lotta demons in my world today
Which means you run into
someone standing by it
No, I won't sign you an autograph
You can call me an asshole, I'm glad
'Cause I am whatever you say I am
If I wasn't, then why
someone standing by it
No, I won't sign you an autograph
You can call me an asshole, I'm glad
'Cause I am whatever you say I am
If I wasn't, then why
when I went to church and got raped by the pope
Yo' girl call me laundry 'cuz she always takes my load
Doin' shrooms on the low with the Mario Bros.
Call
as the Fonz, and deadly as Charles Bronson
I'm Gonzo, you can call me Travie S. Thompson
Go ahead, and you can choose a similar path
But don't cast yourself up
like, "Gee, I don't know, he might be"
I told 'em meet me at Kid Rock's next concert
I'll be standin' by the Loch Ness monster, I'mma peace out
Then I
he greedy (uh-huh)
I ran off, told 'em, "catch me on the TV" (tell 'em)
See I'm from where you rob Peter to pay Paul (Paul)
I'm yelling, "fuck
left behind could call it the ashes
Not a boom bap rapper
Im a true fact slapper
Imma shoot them at you
Hope you handle em right
Like a superstar that
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