[Intro]
I'm the motherf**in rookie of the year
Mykki Blanco
Young Castro
[Pre-verse]
We on that chill tip, real high
We feeling real loose, real fly
We on that chill tip, real high
We feelin real loose, real fly
[Verse 1]
Welcome to Hell b**hes, this is Mykki Blanco
New World Order motherf**er, follow pronto
Get in line n***a
Your soul is mine n***a
You scaredy cat p**y motherf**ers can't deliver
Maybe she born with it, maybe it was Maybelline
All white Blanco give your heathen a** a christening
n***as so greasy in the daylight, he glistening
"Oh this f*g can rap" yeah they saying that they listening
Pissing in the wind
At the 4-a-m spot
Blazed off the indica
A bottle of Ciroc
A mouth full of pop
Chug it in the pay phone
1-800- LOCO
Mother f**ers y'all can go home
I'm the new Rufio
Y'all ain't know
I pimp slap you b**h n***as with my limp wrist, bro
What the f** I gotta prove to a room full of dudes
Who ain't listening to my words cuz they staring at my shoes
[Hook]
We...we we make love to the night
In the back of the club yeah we feeling alright
L-lights lights low
This sh** feel crazy
Low key loose n***as know
We getting wavvy
We getting wavvy, getting wavvy, getting wavvy
We getting wavvy, getting wavvy, getting wavvy
We getting wavvy, getting wavvy, getting wavvy
We getting wavvy -- huh -- we getting wavvy
[Pre-verse]
[Verse 2]
I bite I bite I bite the head off a harpy
Eat these b**hes alive, no water
I cry blood tears, Holy Mary, Holy Mother
Somebody get the shaman motherf**er run for cover
Blanco Blanco Blanco say it three times, Candy Man
I'm coming outta the dark with red eyes and red hands
I scalp these haters with a sickle I'm a sling blade
I'm cut-throat b**h, I cut throats b**hes keep away
Now many play me for dummy, not funny
Now a b**h about to get money, they wanna love me
Tell them no no no I played that Destiny's Child
Young hearts run free, young bloods run wild (heyyy)
Green light, with a mic in my hand
I go forward into battle with a dice in my hand
One chance, one woman, seeking the truth
One truth - veiled in the illusions of youth
[Hook]
[Verse 3]
I'm bout to sour you n***as
Be that spitter sh** I'm flexing all my powers on n***a
These no cla** trashy hood rap brat broads
Ain't got what it takes, put 'em back in training bras
Local mother f**ers, birds of a feather
If you's a dick rider you gon' dick ride forever
I said local mother f**ers, birds of a feather
If you's a dick rider you gon' dick ride forever, n***a
[Hook x2]