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dropping a popped locket - wuz relly gud lyrics

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[verse]
and you can’t raise the bar if i just chucked it
i took the game and f-cked it
came cigar puffin, flew past all you lame ducklings
are you gonna buck kid? or am i getting my nuts l!cked?
you’re just a punk b-tch so i drop my pants for the b-tt kiss
f-ck this, i run sh-t this kid’s luck is something
in it to win it and rippin the critics
took your ego and put my d-ck in it
b-tch, i’m the sickest so l!ck spizzy’s inches
you say you got that number, but you missing six digits
limitless i spit, if it’s a beat i’ma k!ll it
i start my own trends but then i laugh when you with it
i been in here for too long, you a miniature crouton
i make the real bread but first, i hit two bongs
success it sucks best, so, stuck? no, suck? yes
sucker to suck-less, f-ck fest where we puff ses
you never see an empty bowl, we plentiful and every roll is huge
i ain’t the duke but i’m married to the dutches
make the girlies undress, sharpie “spizz” on one breast
“dapl” on the other, i get em by the hundreds
got these little cuties shakin booties to my tunes, see?
ayo tunechi, been counting the moons, b
when it comes to paper i be stacking the looseleaf
rubber band not tape, don’t you know what you’re doing?
got the dough to buy all the dro that’ll leave you glistening and stoned worse
got more presidents in my book than your history homework
even before the “spizz thing” or any of the f-cking inkings
i ripped things with a six string, no blinking at the big things
this f-cking shindig has got my f-cking d-ck big
and i’m stinking hinting i’ma win big
business is made up of crooks and cops
you gotta have more heart than the butcher shop
or get stuck choosing between books or socks
biter meet failure get hooked and drop (flip it)
queens is only filled with crooked cops
posted up hiding at the butcher shop
you could get shook, get booked in socks
evidence room got cloudy after they took his pot
it’s a long fall from the top
so do the speed limit with no extra stops
haters gonna hate and we let em hate a lot
but when they start doin the spizzy, i know i been jocked
it’s like a whole buncha little mini me’s got started
they’re p-ssing me off, it’s awful, they’re r-t-rded
jockin my style, it’s fraudulent and garbage
you moldy-c-ck-goldilocks, shoulda poisoned the porridge
f-ck the chorus i spit longer than you could ever have written for you
i could make a frog f-ck a dog and have kittens for you
you sitting, listening nervously
could my next line be rippin on you?
set you on fire, drink gas and sh-t and p-ss on you
beef gets me off so i might just jizz on you
weed gets me gone so i might need a list or two
ghostwriter n-gga, call you mark twain
am i sinking too deep with these claws
b-tch you didn’t want me p-ssed at you
someone hold me back, doctor put me in an inst-tute
your life fades to black, this attack ain’t so simple dude
make your shoulders clack when your chest goes in like a dimple, ooh
running out of patience, please crash like a cymbal soon
my music is the future, feeling like a crystal zune
f-ck this rooster, i only spit to make more guinness room
you’re just a tragedy, gladly born with a silver spoon
blow out your f-cking t–th, leave you with more sippin’ room
was really good?



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