Good Luck

I know I'm a fuck-up and it ain't a good look

But I make it look good, I just need some good luck

Running with the lynch mob, chaos makes my blood rush

I'm not here to make friends, fuck 'em if they judge us

I am my own fucking hero, cold blooded weirdo

Down and out but I can only go up from here though

Barman said "You can't roll up in here bro"

I don't like the music there so I took my earphones

Big sovereign ring like a traveller from the nineties

Your punches never land like you're practising your tai chi

Get lassoed with a mic lead and strangled till your eyes bleed

Axe up in my right sleeve, get hacked without an IP

They claim they're the best in England but it's less convincing

You're dealing with a sick man like Jesse Pinkman

You took a path of less resistance, I suggest remission

I'd take the money any day over the recognition

My life doesn't depend

On what you think, it doesn't help me keep up with the rent

I speak on what I care about, not current events

You're pushing forty, still tryna keep up with the trends

I know I'm a fuck-up and it ain't a good look

But I make it look good, I just need some good luck

Running with the lynch mob, chaos makes my blood rush

I'm not here to make friends, fuck 'em if they judge us

Yo, ask me if I give a fuck

Fuck your plans, I'll dun your dance, the jig is up

About as hard as a lower back tap, you're a Jigglypuff

Rappers think they're in their bag until I come and zip it up

Seen your ma E'd up on the weekend

Eyes wide with her teeth clenched like she's doing the haka dance

I know a few Pakistani Bradford man

Who'll roll you up in carpet and throw you into a Transit van

Gassed up, you can't hold a candle to me

You spit like your bars are loosely based on an action movie

Butterbean punches, need a rapper, crack his skull with ease

A couple fucked around and found out, that's adultery

Hen moving like the rent's due in

Ascend to a new level, leave the rest fuming

You're in the gutter, your life couldn't have gone worse

And you can't make it out like a Rich Homie Quan verse

I know I'm a fuck-up and it ain't a good look

But I make it look good, I just need some good luck

Running with the lynch mob, chaos makes my blood rush

I'm not here to make friends, fuck 'em if they judge us

I'm not tryna make friends with a bunch of Debbie Downers

All jealous cowards, never let me get my flowers

Hoping I can't make her come back like Kenny Powers

Kill 'em so they can't multiply like Terrence Howard

Blessings I manifested, ready and battle tested

Never do rap beefs though, I've never been that invested

Crocs in sport mode, I'm on the hills

You're on your last legs like a dog with wills

I hope you're ready to die 'cause big and small, I kill 'em all

Get 'em tombstones, they're in the morgue

Heading to the ground like a tombstone

Then whip my balls on their chin and all

You rock false gold, my shit is pure

I'm sick of people who ain't doing no better

Always tryna give me advice like they know better

I'm the greatest to ever do it, it's no question

The best you could ever be is a close second

I know I'm a fuck-up and it ain't a good look

But I make it look good, I just need some good luck

Running with the lynch mob, chaos makes my blood rush

I'm not here to make friends, fuck 'em if they judge us