Gun Song

mixtape stickin in your head like some griptape
for shits sake.
one common goal, thats to get cake.
we all struggle just the same when we’re dead poor.
i just refuse to die thinkin i shoulda said more.
people stubborn sleepin on me now like some head boards.
permanent thoughts that will fuck you like a led whore.
i’m colder than your mother fuckin fridge bitch kenmore,
you get less neck than brock lesnor,
eleanor rigby is the one that have with me,
she’s classy and she’s pretty,
my old girl is trashy with titties.
but i still smash it the action of givin vaginal smashin,
is smashin,
but i bag it i don’t want no reactions,
plus i cum even quicker,
if i’m stickin it in her,
so excited you would think i was a fuckin beginner,
searched on google if i had problems with dick sensitivty,
its a bummer how much finishing fast can limit me,
even though i’ve heard my dicks long as a limosine,
it always takes a minute when i’m gettin it inbetween.
blah blah blah i’m so sick,
rap, clothes, cars, money, bitches on my dick.
all i really wanna do is get famous, make a lot of money never be short changin
fuck anything and everything besides this music,
because without it my whole heart is useless.
i use it as a weapon, as a question, it’s the answer, its a blessing.
so even when attacked nothing could ruin it.
on records i’m ruthless,
spit till i’m toothless,
and anyone whos callin me a fool is just too damn foolish.
graduated 12th grade, then i quit that school ish,
i would rather not walk in your shoes, and be shoeless,
i’ll be runnin shit in these red vans shoes,
never try to sell you on some bull or scam you,
dodge the hate bullets dont let them ram you,
and live free like willy dont swim like shamu,
i would rather die right now then get another desk job,
i promised myself i would never be fake like a breast job,
stupid people sleepin on me now like rest stops,
but they could rest while i become their neighborhood mascot,
i’m like the white junk in a doublestuff oreo,
mustache growin got me lookin like i’m wario.
check 1, 2, 1, 2,
i’m a rapper yo,
skin whiter than some sourdough,
way hotter than marijuana, way hotter than arizona.