I'm just a lyricist, not a rap ar-teest No flow like your girlfriend next week She's onto the next one, movement, far east Morning sick girl tryna be fly like 6 Gs What you cooking up? That ain't immaculate The closest thing to Jesus born again is the last rap I spit What you looking up? You're working half a wit Mirriam Webster and the Britannica don't know the half of it Crack a book that's that hard back chiropractic I'll reorganize your spines, dewey decimal practice Do we hesitate? Madness. Your patron saint? Agnes Call it rape, I slay beats without even asking You gone soft, 50 cc mushroom cup I'm popping off, You see me? golden mushroom supper My gas pedal suffer cause I'm smashing that And the records piece them back together after the fact I know you been sleeping, so I appear in your dreams And then I peer in your window to watch you scream while you sleep Because I'm Jason to music, everyone adjacent is muted I tend to make em go stupid like chemicals used to clean I been rejected refuted cause they don't get what I mean It ain't my fault that you're foolish you need a brain on your team For those who watching me do this and pour your hate over me I turn my pain into heat, and convert that rain into steam And it's all for the engine, gonna fly around the world in a week That leaves me 73 days, to study my replays, in 73 different seats With plenty of popcorn for eatin'. I'm ready to feed, it's my season Cause Winter was cold blood, and dinner was not good, I'm thinner than young Wiz Khalif I could trade hats with gangstas for playback on laid back As payback for the way that they say Brasco Nor, (NOIR) But aye man, if A$AP is your fave rap don't say that You can take back my tape and just stay yo a** at home (BOI)