[Verse 1] There ain't a single rapper running who's impressed me, yet Not a single motherf**er who ain't saying he's next I got nobody in my corner, I'm humble, but what I thought of Could have made the coldest spitter go and break his sweat And then I break his neck for looking back at me Yes, motherf**er, it's a tragedy Serial k**er of materialistic b**hes and f*ggots is what I had to be Naturally the beats and the murdering happen gradually Oh sh**, hear the clocks go ticking Swear that life's overrated, that's some Roscoe's chicken Got a b**h cooking naked while I f** her sister And make her mom do the light and make her take these pictures It's a cold world, a cold world, and it's beat up Pray I go to Hell so I can heat up Kick it with my feet up Tell the Devil, "f** him" when he meet us That's the nicest way that I could greet you Nice to see you I never took the same lane, I'm with the scenic s**er-a** b**hes never seen it Turn me to the meanest Sick enough to make a b**h bulimic Probably got to puke and watch the screaming Sorry, b**h And sorry mom, that I spit these thoughts And even sorrier that I commit these thoughts There's nothing you can do that can restrict these thoughts It's a bad habit, I've been trying to kick these thoughts Seventeen, you roll back with a vengeance Back with the penmanship In the presence The independence never-ending Like a run-on sentence From ending, there's nothing less than this tension That's building up to the entrance of no repentance I've been the rudist You can puke in, or useless rappers are using this music Ruling, again abusing the mic, and it's laughter Usually I don't do this, usually I go after these f*ggots And tackle them, shackle them Get a belt and then beat their a** with it The Mad Hatter is back as a mad rapper And I'm here to take over your mind And that will start as soon as I take control of a mind Then when I get then I'm using them both for the rhymes Cause all my verses s** It's sad to say it but I had to say it Blow up your cabin, they a habit day With these bullets in your face like a masquerade Attached with a hand grenade Tied in the back of a '97 Taurus that's black and grey And I got Jimmy, he knows So when I sign that deal We blowing green like we doing some coke And I can't do a f**ing line without it going over your head
Like, motherf**er, I just did it again so all that sh** talk You're walking with a big dog I take you to the ring and I'm ripping your f**ing head off I'll double down and dude gon' take your bed off And I don't know if you've got the message Like an iPhone user that's got your "Read" off Same faith from day to day From rapping every state to state From shutting every city down To making more to every ways Waking up to hit the stage Flying to Connect in planes Staying in hotels that got me f**ing every maid to maid From sleeping in, to sleeping with your sister and your sisters friend From making money off of music, funny how that sh** begins Funny how the difference is the b**hes I've been getting since And getting recognized when I be walking down these city strips Started off with dreaming of beginning by me waking up Put my middle finger up the "f** the world, my patience is up" Where's my millions dollars? And where's my happy ending? Cause I'm not no fairy tail and this ain't sh** that I be making up I don't do this sh** for free Give a f** for what you know Tried to run with me and then you realized you're too f**ing slow Put your name up on that line, told you that it's me Only play for blue bills like I'm drafted up at Buffalo Rappers brag a lot, they better Chris Brown and show me Never been the number one, that's cause I'm the only Can't recognize the mirror like I don't even know me My heart is 'a capella' like that sh** don't got no beat Motherf** the clusterf**s and shut them up with uppercuts It f**ing s**s, you must a bust since you don't get no managing My eyes are closed, but I don't know My eyes are open, I suppose I'm dead inside And I arose, I am myself, a mannequin I'm running right past Got a West flow Where this sh** cold Let me get sold And the b**h knows All the flip flows That'll be the promo f**ing never get, though All up in the crowd of my next show Sick mind for the sick rhymes So sick that a b**h dies Can't mind, got to get by Ride waves like a riptide f** whoever hating, we blatantly hailing And praising the second coming and Making a son of Jason, the amazing And greatest hater has zero patience We ain't debating, don't got a second plan We got to make it Got to make it Yeah