This that Pope church Sunday with your kid’s flow.
And I’m the hottest nigga out if you didn’t know.
I’m a bad bad man with a big flow.
I got the fans in the back on their tippy toes
We let the kush burn methodic, then we rip it slow.
I got a main bitch, I also got a nympho.
I told her “I love you” but I lied like a raisin in the sun; I’m just not a nice guy
Lord I’m just chillin’ in a penthouse, I’m livin’ life.
And if you want to, baby girl, then you can spend the night.
Sleep on my shoulder in the cab, marvel at the home I have,
Then I clap and you wake up to fluorescent lights.
And you can find me at Ferragamo with Salvatore.
One page ahead, homie, I write original stories.
I’m in the house, yeah nigga Corey.
At the club celebrate like I’m not the father on Maury.
Papa Skizz says I’m always on my BBM,
And the apocalypse is when you’ll fucking see me end.
I’m graduating, tell my friends “I know we going separate ways but the Grammys is where we’ll probably meet again.”
And now the top off like thugs when it’s hot out.
Everybody trying to avoid me, NBA lockout.
Looking for the future, man, I see it in the mirror.
These other rappers should go home like Tia and Tamera said.
Tipping valets, camel butts in the ashtray.
Last night was a shit show, passed out in the taxi.
Girls at shows who claim that they are not hoes
I tell her lines at clubs and how we never stand in those.
[Chorus]
Look, a white-black kid from Uptown who chose white white kids from Downtown, how profound.
So drink something, smoke something, fuck something, tryna make it, fuck the underground.
Sorry Harriet Tubman. Yeah.
I got fans ‘cause I’m hot.
Get it?
I got fans ‘cause I’m hot.
I got women on speed dial that say they need miles
And they sayin’ my music is crack, my lyrics need vials.
Look I told my bitch I never regret shit
‘Cause assholes and douchebags create the best shit.
I leave school and walk a couple blocks to Georg Jensen.
Shopping at places that for you are way too expensive, it’s just depressing.
And me and Yaz working hard, both destined for greatness.
Good things come to those who wait and we both are being patient.
And Cassanova killing it I’m tryna make a million
And Lou could put me onto some models that are Sicilian.
Write the songs, fully focused on music Cuz.
Changing music, I’m the next one to do it.
Champagne glasses and liquor flasks
No need to ask I’m going to keep writing songs until I pass.
Look did you want the filet mignon or the pasta?
But shes a trendsetter, she asked me for the lobster.
And Rango told me “when you make it, make sure you save some groupies.”
I told him we’ll get diseases if these bitches all have cooties.
Haters hate me like alarm clocks on morning Mondays.
Monday mornings my name rings bells like church Sundays.
And all my girls during fashion week be working the runways.
Got an ‘H’ on my belt and we ain’t talking Hyundai.

[Chorus]

I’m getting love but I try to take it humbly
‘Cause now just three songs got me buzzin’ like a bumblebee
High up, waving at all the pedestrians under me.
Never get cocky, gotta stay Ethiopian hungry.
But fuck it, I’m too ambitious.
You just sticking to the block, dog, you’re too indigenous.
Said it’s getting bread, pigeon shit.
I sonned all you bitches. Yeah, illegitimate.
Fuck the dope game, I’m just tryna be dope as fuck.
Haters hope I break a leg,
But you say I wish you luck.
And these haters are the bullies holding onto my lunch
Standing up for a cause like like I’m Rosa on the bus.
And if I sound like Dre, Cudi, and Wiz combined then I’m the greatest rapper of all time.
Infallible, invincible, living without limits.
Making music until I meet the man in white linen.Yeah



Lyrics submitted by quittersraga

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