System.Void - Louis XVI lyrics

Bedsheets Never not made Go to sleep when my blood stains On my money I'm just running My mind over sums Skipping summer Tattoo like a drummer I spend in abundance Drinking mimosa on Portugal sunsets Your girlie was fun but who said I was done yet? Kissing their man with that cum breath You said you got b**hes but seeing is only believing to me Whenever I see you in studios, man you're running like 20 dicks deep You said you would travel abroad, you said that that journey would teach you You came back your track is a sh**ty attempt at just dissin' you said you were positive rap? Get eaten alive, ho You're a one trick pony with a backpack Probably spent $100 on that Kendrick snapback Don't tell other people how to spend their money You're a surrogate Project your mommy on the rap game But suburban learning has occurred you're breaking patterns, bad at words Even though you spent like 1000 per, every 100 views You are not hood, you should not talk hood problems Backwood hipsters is all I call them Smoke reggie blunts, while the camera follows I don't give a f** 'bout your feelings on bottles and d** I just judge by your character Spreading the love The problem is love a prodigal problem we bottle it up Just be nice to your neighbor Your art can't define you But these artists are salty they try to define you Face white like I'm Michael I'm a pale skinned male, hell there it is With my name spelled wrong on your diss track So thanks for learning my heritage, Irish I only f** girls and drink guinness I fight till i piss and In Celtic my name means I'm noble forgive me Maybe you'd be dealing with a feeling you're a simple form of life Like a protozoan Not J.Cole but a Clone of him I don't give a f** if you like my sound It's better off without these pussies bringing down my music I don't want a f**in collab i just wanna tongue a tab, and just kick it with my fans In the Soviet Union How the f** is that for a movement? My fan club on VK has wavy b**hes and the listen to that trap tune The one I made about you f**ers posing as a cla**room My teachers never taught me nada Their salary was half of the problem AP Student I stunted on y'all I had to teach all these kids string theory Three i s in your name Don't ever mean you're capable of livin with a clean spirit Maybe you should take a shot at rappin money Instead making more tracks about a dead spirit I'm mean spirited Maybe it's the sci fi horror I'm a sadist Getting high Read manga till I'm taken By Satan Abrasive Like Louis XVI OFF WITH THIER HEADS I do not play Doing this sh** from the cradle to grave Grave to a cradle I'm buddhist There's layers to sh** So just walk in shoes And we'll prove That a p**y like you could not do this So just let a motherf**er be happy with a check