Songteksten

So you thinkin' you a edgy motherfucker with yo been trill No rent to pay and yo granny got yo phone bill These motherfuckers twenty-two, live like they sixteen Ain't nothin urban bout a outfitter hype-- Beast, no identity Sittin' 'round re-tweetin' tweets From your favorite rapper you found out about like last week Keep it trendy like a pussy bitch you oughta be The schema da posse puttin' all yo fans to fuckin' sleep Planet Earth is about to be recycled Your only chance to - survive - or evacuate, is to leave, with us So once you hit eleven likes you a king Pussy be beggin' for you, I see I bet you pick up on my sarcasm so easily, easily Bury yo head in the ground and then don't come out Better sort your fuckin' life out There's more to life than hittin' synthetic drugs 'til yo lights out When I was a kid on my bus I got a bible Was told to read it I took it home to my pops, he threw it in the trash and yelled Don't you even That begun my life as a heathen Questioning everything Especially trends, among other shit, keepin' the population contained The mind that was in Jesus That mind is in me I know what I just said I said, I am the return of the Son of my Father I'll tell you something that's even more remarkable My Father came with me - this time Shit don't mean a thing If you got no money, no pussy, no weed Long as you got eleven likes, you won't lose any sleep Shit don't mean a thing If you got no man, no cash, oh well Long as you got eleven likes you won't hate yourself Shit don't mean a thing If you got no money, no pussy, no weed Long as you got eleven likes, you won't lose any sleep Shit don't mean a thing If you got no man, no cash, oh well Long as you got eleven likes you won't hate your-- Self
Writer(s): Eric Whitney Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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