Lyrics

LD AKA, homicide Yes, homicide OG's knew I had it poppin' IG lookin' photoshopish (it's lit, it's real) They just can't take charge so they floppin' New shit looking like it's knocking Rap game, not a game, well I ain't broke so it's cast off Really I been keepin' shit a hunnid like the Cubbie tryin' to close it with a fast ball I don't even do this shit for money but they buying it in droves like it's half-off If Dicky gotta show out there You know he 'bout to show out there Rol on my arm Russ on a farm Piston, new guard They put the boy on the Jumbotron Just to pump up the crowd At my ten year reunion, like look at me now Having good sex on the reg New Tempur-Pedic, my bed All of my lawyers are black Shit is ironic as hell But I guess that what happens when Jews started rappin' Used to have turtles, no wonder I'm snappin' Used to commercial, right, used to play Madden No wonder they let me do both for a bag I was not in a frat, I had never conformed In a 2000 cab I had never performed I ain't takin' no L's Fuck what you sell I barely pay for my drinks, doin' well I tell 'em there is no need for the glitz I don't need sparklers, they know that I'm lit I'm on top of the world, fuck all these girls I prefer momma to play with my curls I can tell all of you rappers ain't thorough Head hit the pillow and boom it's tomorrow But how can you sleep? (Ew, ew) How can you sleep? (Ew, ew) How can you sleep? (Gross, how?) How can you sleep? (How? Ew) How can you sleep? (How? Gross) How can you sleep? (How? Ew) How can you sleep? (How? Ew) You still asleep How many bitch ass rappers I gotta slap 'till they put on Worldstar? Even though Q passed away Pull a '38 out of my pocket and then cock it Leave a nigga on an island like he in Castaway Cock strong since them old Doc songs (thug life) Like an old Pac song, outta my mind The lights on, but I'm not home Something is wrong with me I done brought six strippers from Vegas home with me (six) Trees bought game to getting blown with me FaceTime with Karrueche, they on the phone with me Tell K good night, I'm hype, I might ignite Plastic cups, Promethazine and Sprite Man I don't really know who's song this is Who's weed I'm stealing and who's bong this is And I don't really give a fuck 'cause I keep the ammo tucked and you can keep on swinging from my nuts But don't say I can't rap like I'm not a Rap God Like I won't break your fucking favorite rapper's rap jaw I don't give a shit Big or tall, short or small I'll cut your dick off and sit it on Trump's wall Then spraypaint: Fuck the President, it's evident Hip Hop dead, them new niggas irrelevant Different color braids, you niggas stuck in the maze Ain't grew up by a beach, to say you ridin' a wave Man, I'm so glad that Guwop out And rap fans still give a fuck what 2Pac 'bout I'm right here, I don't give a fuck who hop out Don't let Mark Zuckerberg get you knocked out (me?) And don't try me over IG Don't try to be subliminal and get it by me I'm a criminal, I'll leave you hooked to a IV Next to Jimmy Iovine over hood shit, but We could start with rap shit I ain't never lost at that shit Let me clear it up, Proactive I could walk up in this motherfucker looking everybody dead up in the eye, like we can rap for that shit You'll get embarrassed I'll be in Paris, don't compare us Flow the rarest Got bitches in the bed room, over sharing Got an Aussie and a Brit like I'm going with Sharon So apparent, Heir apparent But I don't want it next Someone tell Complex it ain't complex And what you lookin' at is now like a Timex I am checked the on now off the clock like compound I'm really adamant, you're really adequate I'm really passionate, I'm Billy Madison I'm the motherfucking graduate Twenty ten with a pen, I didn't plan this shit My plan legit, I manuscript it It was living by the candle stick But for the plaques I had to mantle it (woh) All my friends thought Dicky was a joke Now they tryin' to see a show Now they out of breath, tryna speak good (ah) I remember everyone that didn't think I could (ah) Every publicist who thought that I was mocking hood Look what what you were tryin' to stopping jerk Look who tryin' to rap now I don't even fuck with you (ha) If what's done is done, how come I ain't done with you? (Hoe) And if it's fucking done, come on how dumb is you? Let me get another tissue I'll be crying 'till the fucking bank pull that card again From Charlamagne to Busta, Game, to Puff, to Sway, Questlove, T-Pain, from Snoop to Chainz, it's all the same Ain't no debate, they know who fake, they know who great You don't know your place (no) Cameras around me, they don't know your place (no) Shooters around me 'cause I entertain (uh) I got 'em shooting they movie (ya) I could meet a bitch on a Tuesday Girls come to me Don't got jewelry Don't feel bad when I bust in my jacuzzi Don't eat ass but it still be lookin' juicy (woh) Front page, coming at you like a news'ie Hoes didn't choose me, now I'm choosing Now I got a Jap on knees like sushi (oh) Lil' dick got vert, no Uzi (ha) I might just pop that coochie, bra OG's knew I had it poppin' How can you sleep? Ew How can you sleep?
Writer(s): Jayceon Taylor, David Burd, Devon Lewis, Ruben Castillo Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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