love-sadkid - participation trophies lyrics
[verse 1]
partic+p+tion trophies are just losers tissues
manufactured joy [?] fiscal fake issues
i came to devastate and mess with fate
get it straight said i hate rappers who hesitate
imma get mine on the back nine
sisyphean way you act surprised
you getting cut off the team you ain’t even tryout
and bet your ass i’m laughing when you crying out
you can find your own way own
y’all cool with uniformity
bite until you’re all just endless copies
it’s like a disease unoriginal zombies
don’t hop on my wave i’m late to the party
soon as [?] it alrеady started
i spent half of my advance on wads of papеr to eviscerate
calculating plans to stop my haters tryna get to me
alka seltzer antacids acclimate my alkalinity so f+ck your minor aches and pains
i stand tall whenever i’m next to great
you rappers only worried ‘bout cheddar when next to grate
i dance upon your grave and bleach your skeleton
i’m h+lla pumped up on adrenaline
see it from your perspiration kid you can’t handle the kitchen
so get your tea up out the cabinet and pack up all your b+tchin
i won’t practice self restraint
my day to day is filled with endless sittin
i will travel whatever the distance
throw the flag i get called for unsportsmanlike conduct
guess i’m just a qualified bomb threat
got all this sauce i might just flavour blast your pasta
this the finest type of wine to steal from my exciting rhymes
just take a sip one at a time
digest my bars and pick a line
i’m still fresh but when it comes to rap knowledge i want a sweepstakes
waiting ‘til the labels watching decide not to be cheapskates
simean
[chorus]
another day tryna save just to pay my rent
why this hurtin every time that i hang with friends
getting money on my mind but never in my pocket
need another dollar [?]
another day tryna save just to pay my rent
why this hurtin every time that i hang with friends
getting money on my mind but never in my pocket
need another dollar [?]
[verse 2]
b+tch i’m broke
how the f+ck can i be a pain to you
i get the whole crowd crazy when i say this sh+t
i make a hit i make it hit
i make my bread and then i spit
who the f+ck matching my mechanics
my accolades collecting fans from all the other planets
doing damage until i pass away and then some
go manic when i rap for days and master how to handle
my position i’m wishing my mission maybe was conditional
or fiction ‘cause living like this just makes me want to give it up
i’m sick got a trick up my sleeve
i’m hidden i’m quick in the knees
i’ll make em all fall
and to everyone that doubted me
a 2020 rap game phenomenon
dropping every bar so hard you’d think that i was bombing ya
i just pray they start to bark and make me catch a body
[?]
[?]
so tell me who can really rock the mic like james can
tryna get a dollar off the music like a paint man
i ain’t beg for anybody else tryna save me
but lately i stay far far away from the [?]
simean
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