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esh & the isolations - chef kiss lyrics

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“my heavens” +
rich girls clutching their pearls in my presence
podcast’s asking me what my process is
write next sh+t & punctuate it with a chef kiss

“so impressive” +
empaths hoping to soak in my essence
cats outside of your show in 5 seconds
and my guess is that we are not on the guest list

i always show up glow’d up
dripping like my throat after coke bumps
yup, i’m all growns up
road dog on a f+cking sh+t+town gold rush

now, ain’t that something?
teacher told me i need my head piece shrunken
beats that’ll get dem bourgeoisie slumming
bars that’ll leave your pumpkin all sunk in

we don’t, we don’t
we don’t, we don’t
we don’t, we don’t
f+ck with you anymore

(nah i ain’t crying, i was just chopping onions)
it’s a problem
got the ugly in him and it don’t play possum
i’m your rock bottom like cups of top ramen
rhymes commonly sound like god dropped ‘em

hobgoblin at your dot com mobbin’
in anonymous mask, hit that bottle and pass
death row inmate with his palm on the glass
there’s a boston ghost here from my providence past

you can pay to see
my eyes roll and fist do the shake weight, basically
nosy neighbors all peeking out drapery
first taste’s free, but now your bowing out gracefully

lobster boy gonna start his own papacy
and run sh+t like a hundred jasons are chasing me
tastefully shameless, covered from a to z
with a st++z so blatantly major league

(hadouken)
i can’t lose, there’s russki collusion
spinderella’s in the back room shoop+ing
so, no you can’t speak to my manager, susan

it’s a shoe in, like on tour
every rapper got a sp 404
hardcore, got ‘em screaming “encore, encore”
say my name, say my name, say no more
we don’t, we don’t
we don’t, we don’t
we don’t, we don’t
f+ck with you anymore



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