Coup De Gráce (feat. Seth Sentry & PEZ)

Hey

They wanna know where six at

When I hit 'em with this track, they would likely retire

The fact is, I hate rappers as well

I'd rather battle myself, and fight fire with fire

When I'm sane and my song'll amaze ya

What I'm tryin' to say is you'll get lost in it, ay brah

Honestly, with the quality we droppin'

If you wanna degrade us, it's gotta be A plus

I ain't listenin' to hip hop these days

Everybody just a bunch of hip hop cliches, true

Go ahead and buy my shit of eBay

I'm here to break records like a pissed off DJ, snap

Yeah, i can tell it in your melon

You developin' a habit, better gallop into rehab, rehab

Uh, I'm a fellow with the manners

Not a felon, I'ma Khaled 'em and tell 'em where the keys at

I can smell it, where the weed at?

Honestly homie, yo, I can tell you're gonna relapse, relax

You're a dope fiend for the codeine

You're a Fat Joe fan, got you yellin' for the lean back

Coup de grace, coupe de grace

Anyone can get it, I don't care who you are, uh uh

Coup de grace, coupe de grace

I don't give a fuck who you are

Hella lookin' around, but I still haven't found my place

That's why you see me drift off into outer space

All you down to earth rappers can eat sour grapes

Or a sour steak, my whole fuckin' fridge is outta date

I rocked up to the studio an hour late, yeah

And snuck in like, hey guys, it sounded great

I swear to God, I hear another of you welterweights

Rappers who sound the same and there'll be fuckin' hell to pay

Man, I'm feelin' back in my element

Like I'm channelin' the devil, writing' rap for the hell of it

To remind these motherfuckers that I'm actually talented

I don't want to but I have to keep tellin' 'em, what's that

I can pad this verse out with lyrics that are six years old

'Cause I wrote better shit than you when I was six years old, it's true

All you rappers from the new school who just enrolled

If you don't know that I'm the shit, then you've just been told, bitch

Coup de grace, coupe de grace

Anyone can get it, I don't care who you are, I don't though

Yeah, coup de grace, coup de grace

I don't give a fuck who you are

Yeah, you ain't sicker than this fidgety bitch

Lickety split, stick to the script, and play the role you give, yeah

Thinkin' your shit's bigger than this, no it isn't

I'ma put your head in a box, boy, you're goin' missin'

I got a chicken, I ain't talkin' 'bout a parma, 'ey

Pull out game strong, I ain't comin' to your party, mate

Mad at the buzz, you're alarm is late

Reverse Kanga, this shit is hard to take

Look, decided it's finally time for bravado

Line after line after line, like a barcode

You trash cunts, you ain't worth the work

So go and pull yourself together like a circle jerk, motherfuckers

Coup de grace, coupe de grace

Anyone can get it, I don't care who you are, yeah

Coup de grace, coupe de grace

I don't give a fuck who you are, nope

Man, coup de gras, coupe de grace

Anyone can get it, I don't care who you are, uh

Coup de grace, coupe de grace

I don't give a fuck who you are

Man, I'm doin' shit my own way

I'm kickin' bubble gum and chewin' ass

Slidin' to your studio inside a Uber car

Jumpin' out with two bazookas and a suit of armor

Blew apart the booth and puff a doobie, go to Zumba class

You ain't the sickest, you're a hypochondriac

So just loosen up, relax, go get some juice in a chicken noodle cup

I got a pandemic flu and I'm pukin' up

Blood full of AIDS, the bubonic plague, and a case of whooping cough

Jumpin' Jupiter, who would ever assume that the goofiest kid in school

Woulda grew to be even stupider

Screw the tutor, I'm huffin' a tube of glue in a cubicle

Ate a urinal cake and I think it's caught on my uvula

All I wanted to do was to rap and improve and do better

Boostin' up all of my skills, feel like you didn't get the newsletter

Now I just wanna ruin your buzz, I'm a fuckin' mood killer

You should evacuate from the place 'cause I'm goin' nuclear

So fuck bein' the sharpest tool in the shed, I just grab it

And stab your crew with it, who want it? Psst, I'll fuckin' ruin yas

Takin' your cash cow and I grill it and serve it back to ya

There's some barbecue rap for ya, chew it up, it's the coup de grace