- - Intro - Fake niggas, bitch niggas, damn got me fucked up. All this fuckin’ new wave social media bullshit, fake rappers wit their wikapedia rhymes, damn
textin’ rebloggin, bout to get to flogging, fat hoes need to get to joggin
Kids noggins’ empty like their flip phone collection see a smart phone they get a fuckin’ erection
I got that Spa Getta but if she wearin’ her mom’s home made sweatah
I say I got somethin’ beta pull out mom’s spah getta
But damn the cops were on the block, when they gonna get off my cock
Sprintin’ flinchin’ niggas itchin for my dick
Got sick of this shit wanted go home for some mom’as spahegtta
Pull out the beretta, yo cops I tell ya, I got something betta
Sprayin’ shit layin waste to pigs havin fits
Gay and fancy like niggas in blouses or out wit their wives pickin out houses
Yo, I’ma have a shit fit and lay down all your spouses
Gonna have to get fido to find they bones, kill all them white boys tappin’ phones I mean sorry, not sorry
Fuck money, fuck hoes, fuck niggas with bitch ass touch screen phones FUCK all my foes
Where the fuck did I put Fido, I need him to find my senses, buried them somewhere, murder? I wouldn’t dare
It’s just that I don’t care
Got my conscious restlin with a bear, it’s about to lose
Just like how I’m going to lose my mind
Let me find fido, I’m on da grind
Everytime I tune in for the radio, I hear this gay club shit
Faggots tryin’ to get in this love shit, R&B shit, ugh shit. only thing I’ve ever loved is my flipphone
My ego wont budge, so I let the devil give me a nudge
But women avoid me like I’m a disease tryin’ to spread
I better forfeit before I incrase my dread, locks
Flow is sick like chicken pocks, I’d like a martini on the rocks, Just kiddin’ gonna get drunk off himlock berries so I can meet the boatsman’ on tha fairy.
So I can head to the afterlife where it ain’t so scary
I could use some common sense right about now, before I murder everyone in the comments tellin’ me my shit is low quality
My music is like my life low quality, but my mom’s spahgetta godly
Here we go again wit christian’s tellin me to do the right thing
But I sing songs about rapin’ hoes and tappin phones, whats so wrong?
I would take a hit from the bong, but I’d rather take a hit from my father
Dad didn’t want to bother, I didn’t either, and my mother, fuckin’ bitch I despise her
But she gave me my good looks, but too bad I’m not good like my looks
I’m a fire starter, but this fire started in the street and headed up the building at night to be discreet
What was I burning? Kids, wives, mothers, and every smart phone lover
Got a plate it’s too late, whatcha lookin’ at this is mom’s spah getta
I’m a go getta, but my temper is short like every letter I eve got from my family
Count the alphabets and make a bet I can guarantee going to regret
Tellin’ me I ain’t lyrical, yet everyone crunkin’ to yeezy, yeezus and every mother fucker actin like jeezus
Front with the messiah I ain’t no liah, lost my innocence back in 1999, musta dropped it in a dumpster
Couldn’t smell it was already rotten like my life, never made good choices
It’s like I’m from the odd future, lookin for a gang of furries to hang, ain’t no light shinning through the aperture
When I spot the rapture, it’s jesus I’m gonna capture or yeezus whoever
His bones I’m gonna fracture, every rapper wanna be actor ain’t a factor
Welcome to fear factor, where my only fear is a queer with a smart phone fetish
Run over a gadget bitch like a deer under a tractor, or call up hopsin and tell him his shit is a FLOP throw away the keys on the lock
Jail that nigga for suckin my cock
Spot I’m plottin, I slaughter like the ill-gotten but my presence is easily forgotten
But there’s one thing I’ll never forget, but I’ll never get, because I killed the one in demand, and jerked off using her severed hand, let me have another plate before I lose my mind
Oh wait it’s too late
Just wanted to restate
I’ve always loved a plate of mom’s spahgetta
