Drew Correa - I Am Not a Human Being lyrics

[Produced by Drew Correa and Infamous] [Intro] I am not a human being [Verse 1] p**y for lunch, pop all the balloons and spit in the punch Yeah, kush in the blunts I ride through your block see a foot in the trunk I don't know why they keep playing, they better re-plan I'm giving 'em the blues, Bobby Blue Bland Together we stand and fall on y'all Balling with my Bloods, call it b-ball These days ain't sh**, Young Money is I got Mars bars, 3 Musketeers Come through, coupe same color as veneers And you know I'm riding with the toast, cheers! Now I'm back on my grizz And y'all's a bunch a squares like a mothaf**in' grid sh**, f** with me and get hit I finger-f** the Nina, make the b**h have kids Just do it? My n***a, I just did Name a mothaf**a deeper than me, b**h dead You dig? This here is big biz And I scream f** it's whoever it is [Hook] I am the Rhyming Oasis I got a cup of your time, I won't waste it I got my foot on the line, I'm not racing I thank God that I am not basic (I am not basic, I am not a human being) [Verse 2] Rockstar baby Now come to my suite and get lockjaw baby Rich n***a looking at the cops all crazy It's the mob sh**, n***a, Martin Scorsese Heater close range, cause people are strange But I bet that AK-47 keep you ordained You can't see Weezy nor Wayne, I'm in the far lane I'm running this sh** hundred yard gain Swag on infinity, I'm k**ing em See the white flag from the enemy Shoot you in the head and leave your dash full of memories Father forgive me for my brash delivery I will try you, I wouldn't lie dude I must be sticky cause them b**hes got their eyes glued Young Money baby, we the sh** like fly food Y'all can't see us like the bride's shoes I stand tall like I'm mothaf**in' 9'2" I scream motherf** you and whoever design you And if you think you hot, then obviously you are lied to And we don't die, we multiply and then we come divide you [Hook] [Verse 3] Reporting from another world Magazine full of bullets, you can be my cover girl Bless got the weed rolling thicker than a Southern girl Strong-arm rap like a n***a did a hundred curls Rockstar b*atch, check out how we rock And if this ain't hip hop, it must be knee hop I'm higher than a tree top, she lick my lollipop I still get my candy from your girlfriend's sweet shop Spitting that heat rock, I'm smooth, not Pete Rock And my money on etcetera... three dots Still get a stomach ache every time I see cops You better run mothaf**a, cause we not You better run 'til your feet stop You ain't even on a f**ing alphabet in my tea pot Colder than a ski shop, holding on to the top And even if I let go, I still won't d-rop [Hook]