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phone-eg - cheesed lyrics

[intro: phone-eg and unknown voice]
— phone-eg
— h-llo?
— you dun know say the tape is straight fire, seen?
— that’s not even my phone…
— …a l!ckle fame, money…
— who is this?
— the streets is f-cking with the tape, b-tches wanna give you head…
— who the f-ck is this?
— but i dun know say you’re happy, seen? i see that
— i am…
— but you know there’s something bothering you, phone-e
— shut up!
— something burning you, phone-eg!
— no, there’s not!
— you know it, fam!
— f-ck you!
— holding back isn’t gonna do sh-t, seen? man ah need to let it out
— no!
— let it the f-ck out, g!
— get out my bucket hat! f-ck you! (gl-ss shatters) you think you can handle this side? when i’m p-ssed? (gl-ss shatters) you don’t f-ckin– you don’t f-cking know! f-ck it!

[verse 1: phone-eg]
i dropped this mixtape, took the world by surprise
the 6 has talent, p-ssy, open up your eyes
(i bump your sh-t, fam!) liars in disguise
you ever been to h-ll, n-gga, welcome to my life
bucket hat on cause i’m a– stop the flow, man
phone-e known to blow mans
phone-e known to smoke mans
phone-e known to grab the burner
stick it down his throat, fam
leave his body at his momma’s door, all alone, man, d-mn!
its mr. bucket hat, mr. don’t pack the gat
mr. get his chain sn-tched and don’t do nothing back
mr. caught the bug when he f-cked the ting bareback
mr.– f-ck that!
why would you even come and try phone-e?
do you wanna die, homie?
when the bullets fly, mandem reaching for the sky
and mandem thought phone-e wasn’t ’bout it
now the doctor’s pulling bullet fragments out his pelvis
i aimed for his dome, but then i shot low
my gun was too heavy, i call it dumbo
oh, no, kimbo couldn’t hold phone-e’s chrome
he has a better chance taking arthur’s sword from the stone
you n-ggas thinking it’s a game? let’s play
real-life duck hunt with your mom and your bae
you n-ggas like mario without the shrooms
phone-e’s like bowser greasing peach in the room
now what you gonna do when phone-e’s heading to your sp-ce?
your heart race, you say grace and you start to brace
my gun is like your boss when you’re asking for a raise
intimidated when there’s guys in your face

[interlude: phone-eg and unknown voice]
— that’s exactly what the f-ck i’m talking about, dawg
— who are you?
— let it the f-ck out, dawg!
— no!
— you get sh-t off your chest and i still dun know say there’s more, let it all out, fam!
— please! no!
— you talked about these wastemans, what about these waste cyatties?
— f-ck them!
— how do you feel about these waste f-cking ratchets, dawg?
— i hate them!
— let ’em f-cking know, phone-eg!
— you want me to let ’em know?
— let ’em know!
— okay…
— let ’em f-cking know…
— i heard you the first time, dawg!

[verse 2: phone-eg]
f-ck these waste cyatties! dash ’em all away
get a little money and they’re all up in your face
get a few followers, they’re all up in your base
get a couple likes and they all start to chase
phone-e spitting facts now, most these b-tches crony
b-tch, your p-ssy smell like cheese, eggs and salami
i met this one slu, got her wavy like tsunami
slide the drawers off, p-ssy looser than pastrami
mami, you should understand who you’re f-cking with
phone-e not the one to be set up like a drumming set
this dutty b-tch tried to get phone-e drunk, oh wow!
(shoot it in toronto, end up in hong kong)
let’s just say i’m in hong kong for now
i could start setting these tings up with ease
d, i’m talking ’bout, “can i get a photoshoot, please?”
the b-tch come through, the b-tch on her knees
the burner is the camera, now can you say cheese?
now this is why you really shouldn’t f-ck around with phone-e
phone-e got the tools to leave your body floppy like bologna
holy moly, phone-e, now your momma’s extra lonely
solely for the fact that only holy man can hold me
holy phone-e
he’s not playing games
i am a hummer, b-tch, stay in your lane
i am billy bishop, you are nothing but a plane
you are a roach, i’m a bottle of that raid
you are a puppy and i am a great dane
the burner is my rabbit and i am david blaine
now run, forrest, run
i’ll give a head start, my bullet’s michael johnson
one of my smallest clips will leave king kong stunned
imagine what’ll happen if i shoot the big one
they say, “all phone-e raps about is his guns”
to those people i say, “three, two, one”

- phone eg lyrics

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