[Intro]
ATTACOTTI!
[Verse 1]
Depth is dead, so fuck all ya'll Spotify (yuh)
Lemme tell you fifty reasons why I wanna die (I wanna die!)
All your fucking shit is number one through forty-nine, (ay)
And listening to you is fuckin’ every other time (blaow blaow blaow)
For legal reasons, man, I just be joking bout that shit
Man, I really got you there, I hope that you enjoyed the bit (ha ha)
I ain't ever really thought about being up on a bridge
But I promise if I do, then when I jump I'll do a flip! (AAAAAH)
I’m crashing through the beats, and I'm increasing my velocity
Dodging what they toss at me, they're lost and I'm just possibly
Cautious, cuz I need to watch my back, that's my philosophy
I get nauseous when I see how they got soft on me (brrrrah)
So what is my intention, am I crazy or just ventin' (brrd)
They hang on my all words like I keep 'em full of suspension
Lemme mention that my lyrics get them hopped up on the tension
I need an intervention, or some suicide prevention
[Chorus]
Uh, I just nutted in my Jorts (ay)
When ya daddy sees me, he gon' take my ass to court
But I’m not the sort of motherfucker who would come up short
Lemme tell you my retort, in thirty bars is my report (brrrrrrrrah!)
[Verse 2]
I go in, harder than my cock, not a bitch can doubt me (ay)
Dumber on these beats than fucking K*** ********ski (brrrah!)
Did you really think that you could do this shit without me? (brd brrd)
Only fucking thing you did alone was take selfie (ay)
I see couple bitches thinking they my amor
But I ain’t ever givin' my corason to a whore
Don’t you listen to the shit they spittin just cuz they sore
What you squeezing me for, I need your knees on the floor!
(brrrrah)
I ain't a player, I just play the cards that's dealt to me
I pop off like the pop tab to a fucking can of seltzer be (pzzt pzzt)
You want more from me
But I don't know what fucking else there’d be
I keep myself, there's nothing else, lemme act selfishly
I'm a violent man, I ain't ever lyin man, (ay)
You're the sorta guy that I would fight with just a frying pan (bam bam)
Smack you, till you lying on the ground and then start crying, man
Not the type of motherfucker you should think of trying, damn!
[Chorus]
Uh, I just nutted in my Jorts (nutted in my Jorts!)
When ya daddy sees me, he's gon take my ass to court
But I'm not the sort of motherfucker who would come up short
Lemme tell you my retort, in thirty bars is my report (ay, ay, ay!)
[Verse 3]
I'm viscous when I'm dissing these bitches, I get malicious (brrrrd)
They get twisted when I spit at em, smacking em up like kisses (mwa)
I don't miss it, I hit swift and swish kids up like they were dishes
I wish that they would quit tryna use me to get they riches (ca-ching!)
I really, I just feel that I'm acting like I'm a seal (ork ork!)
When I rap I step back and think "Do I really need me a deal?"
If I make tracks to get cash, can I even say that I'm real?
Or is the fact that the only path to get platinum's to kneel?
I just want to stay my own course, can my own path even work?
I mean exactly how worse, can making raps from the source (brrd brrrd)
Detract from stacks or a Porsche, like do I lack the remorse, (ay)
Or do I have to stay on track and get all high on my horse? (NEIGH)
Ha, now that I got deep lemme just climb out of this pit
My raps get whacker by half with every measure I spit
I just relapse to the past, when all my rappin' was shit
Well this is it, I'm lit, so I'm gonna head out and just quit
[Outro]
(Brrrrrrah)
