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anthony ryan – gary johnson(2016) lyrics

oh watch out i’m k!llin’ off this new shit
all these rappers are a f-ckin’ nuisance
i can’t stand you homie, i’m just sayin’
someone shoot ’em, hold up i’m just playin’
if you got the glock, #putthegunsdown
cuz everybody on the f-ckin’ run now
didn’t have ours, so it’s cool to pop now?!
tryna get the picture with the issue cropped out…whoa
this shit go!
my boys gon’ hear this be like “this my bro”
i knew he had it in him, knew the kid was gonna snap
a year ago he said that he was finished with the rap
you must be stupid, to let this go
stretch some pussy, then flex the flow
where i’m at, my chick never know
got the good wife, and a mistress hoe
hold up, now we b-mpin’, this my jam
we been f-ckin’, oh this ya man?!
how you doin bruh? my name’s ant
and i throw parties in your girl’s pants
think she love me, but i can’t say
cause your dumb-ss is always in the way
you triple texted, and they got read
but then she blew me dude, white girl head
she chokin’ on the green like i’m cee lo now
i’m tryna put my peen in the f-ckin brown
ay if your lady got the pink then i’m goin’ down
orange you pleased with my banana now?!
so cuff your girl bro, watch your lady
bet your -ss she want a dimpled baby
if you bite my bars, expect to pay me
we can work from home because i’m f-ckin’ lazy
but know that i been workin’ on the verse
i murk with no rehearsin’, far from perfect but i got a feelin’ i’ma get it there one day
kinda nerdy, cause it’s 7:30
and i’m burnin’ every little noob goin’ sc-mp with the gun game
grandma used to called me “flaco loco”
entiendo mucho, pero hablo poco
momma laughs when i’m speakin’ spanglish
and yet praise the son, like my parents paegan, ugh!

(someone’s gotta speak up)

so quit the rappin’, for your benefit
take your -ss home, write some better shit
all your tracks sound the f-ckin’ same
your boys ain’t tell you, that it’s f-ckin’ lame??!
“i’m in the trap, while ‘im whippin dis work
cookin’ that crack for my boys on the curb!
countin’ these racks while she rollin’ up herb”
that’s some of the whackest shit i’ve ever heard…
oh i’m sorry, bro u mad?
not my fault that this music’s bad
if we recycle garbage, then put out trash
i’ma tell you why this shit is just a fad
ya see the infinite derivatives of invaluable integers
will help a lyric mathematician -n-lyze it critically
i’m the type of rapper that he wishin’ he could get to be
the hottest song you ever wrote’s a bunt and not a hit to me
but before i get distracted from the point i’m tryna make
i hope you understand you’ll never fill the spot i’m gonna take
i’m the coldest millennial in the lone star state
naturally i gotta deal with some lone star hate
it’s all good, i’ll be fine
stack this pumpernickel, f-ck a dime
drink my dos with a third of lime
in the fourth, baby i’m on fire
plead the fifth i can’t tell a lie
my sixth sense is my sk!ll to rhyme
seventh heaven,lord i’m hella high
smoke an eighth on the back nine
number game hella stupid dumb
69 until i’m due to c-m
in my dm, c? like ya boo was run
0 dates, we just f-ck for fun
i don’t like netflix while chillin’ in bed
if you at my crib then it’s hulu and head
with her bare hands she be kneedin’ some bread
i’d rather see what that mouth do instead…
bro she gave me dome like a frappuccino lid
that latino kid, spit that primo shit
you ain’t know about chicago?!
john cena shit, she ain’t ever seen the kid
b-mpin’ drizzy’s “vistas” in lago
sold my soul to the devil and he gave me a refund
even lucifer told lebron not to play for the heat, son
but even when you’re hot, you got to reach for the flame
cause when you know you’re the best, you got love for the game

(one time for leander i guess, right?)

this that locker room 4-5!!!
austin, texas got me so live
houston had the kid slowed down
san antonio?……..cholas
dallas got ya boy buck as f-ck
waco wildin’ in a pickup truck
in a 4×4 tryna get it stuck
ya see down south, they all down to f-ck
yo i catch these hoes then drop em
boy i’m like dez bryant, stahp it
feel like chris brown on poppin’
bout to beat these singers up for profit….joking
sippin’ horchata, scream viva la raza
you know that your boy is a bean, ayyy
bake empenadas, verde enchiladas
tu sabes i’m all bout my green, ayyy
i ain’t really tryna f-ck wicha
just a smart -ss with some dumb b-tches
before you go and drop another track
bring that real hip hop back…

- anthony ryan lyrics

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