Anybody wanna do rappin'? I'll do fuckin' rappin' They all dissin' me, why? 'Cause I'm the golden boy These records too damn shiny, so go put your son glasses on This old motherfucker was rappin' 'fore I was born And you still ain't beatin' nothin' except the skeleton of a dead horse If I'm a bitch, I'm Snow White and done stomped out like seven dwarfs I got them blue genes, baby, run the village like I'm Papa Smurf Scary-ass cracker, you scared to go first 'Cause it takes your ass four years to write a twelve-bar verse I give a twelve-bar curse Tell Rypta get the keys and start the twelve-valve hearse I'm an alpha goin' mega, now that ego hurt And lemme ask this first Why Adam the only superstar who never headlinin' his own concerts? His life shifted in reverse, that statement is a last and first He said, I'm goin' to get the bag, then went and picked him up a purse Textin' his boyfriends on the tele Hardest line? You called me Tubbie So addicted to the phones, install a screen right on his stomach Industry under his shirt, he tryna hide it from the public Now he doin' propaganda 'cause my fan base is cultic Too authentic to replicate it, got his Play-Doh tryna sculpt it His visions homo motives that involve me bein' Cupid or culprit I'd never waste an arrow, only big game I'm huntin' And I done made it crystal clear, the words I speak are carbocundom Y'all shoot bullets, I throw thunder, on a pulpit, preach from under I stay grounded like the roots from a down-south motherfucker Marge, skip the Wi-Fi bill and send his ass down to Hustler Buy a ball gag for his ass so he quits talkin' like a buster I'm the rain man. On a cloudy day, he still rockin' them Ray-Bans Can't even look himself in the mirror to believe the shit his own brain says I knew you wasn't the rapper the first time that I shook your tiny hand 'Cause you named your son one syllable away from the term gay man I feel like Eminem and Nick Cannon still tryna find the cadence Tae-man gonna buy you a dictionary like Dang, dad I'm a fire-flame, fire, fire-flame spitta My range, mind-rage career ender I write page, right way in ten minutes You dug grave, too shallow to die in it I told y'all leave me, leave me 'lone, but y'all kept blowin' up my phone Now your obituary typed on Genius lyrics.com I ain't even listened to your I'm jealous of Upchurch song And that's proof you ain't improvisin', I'm physically walkin' improv My pen game is tougher than a nylon slip-knot Only way you rock and roll is when I make you kick rocks You a case study for social media side effects At this point, your heroine is cyber net Done reclused hisself inside a web even more than a spider is Hosier was right: You are Eve, and ya hoe-ass be sleepin' inside a cider mill Thinkin' that you poppin' off, but I disassembled your pistol's firin' pen He lookin' down the barrel like What the fuck is wrong with this shit? This motherfucker's got no common sense Got a hot wife at home takin' care of kids While he run around takin' some Instagram pics With Jenny Lemons at an Airbnb he rented from some hipster chick That had a really cool garden fence I'm just, I'm just doin' agriculturin' Only thing you're good at is aggravatin' the culture, bitch Yeah, you in the lane, but only when you on some vulture shit You're mad that I got molten spit I mold the pen, you growin' mold, hate, and hopelessness Only thing your kid gonna learn when old enough to comprehend Is dad was a Yankee Doodle who barely even used a pen I'm chillin' in a rooster pen, I think this dude a layin' hen You ain't a used to be or a has to been You non-existently a used to been Until I let you in I'm evictin' you and all your friends One by one if I gotta slick Get used to swervin' and back it up like that ol' girl twerkin' (ha, ha, ha) Back it up like that ol' girl twerkin' I'ma back it up like that ol' girl twerkin' I'm gonna back it up like that ol' girl twerkin' Who the fuck says that, bro? A guy who swings for the wrong team, that's for damn sure, ha ha Church, church, church (The devil wears a size twelve shoe) Talkin' to the booth, motherfuckers I wrote that when I was eatin' eggs, bitch Waa Doin' rappin'