Willie The Kid - f** Rappers lyrics

[Verse 1: Planet Asia] f** rappers, ban 'em like flavored Dutch Masters Your cuts after I listen to 'em with much laughter Champagne slush my campaign Krush Grooving, powder Peruvian, black Nubian manoeuver I'm like Max Julien to Cougars, with more racks than Hooters Wasn't for rap I'd probably be head of the pack Pa** the straps to shooters Pockets lacking Gouda, that's when n***as pack the Ruger I caught a cool run, my crew runs sh**, Hilltop Hustling logic Rock your pillbox, I still got a couple of projects n***as can't f** with my accomplishments The Don is supreme sonic, Ebonic, speaking in phonics Reminiscing on hand to hand, running from big knots Now it's G&Gs all over my silk top Amongst trappers, in the cuts we clutch clappers Ain't another n***a die for n***a, f** rappers [Verse 2: Willie The Kid] f** rappers, n***as 'posed to been dead Bled through the Band-Aid, I'm Pinhead Hell raising, I lay blades Clive Barker and Wes Craven My neck's craving, I savor the flavor It's savoir faire save my fear for the saviour For all the rest of y'all I got a bomb, Jaeger Especially you rappers, f** all of y'all Fast forward then backwards, sick chiropractor I'm hot like the sand out in Cairo, a pyro Maniac, a klepto, braniac I'm zany Pop it like a Xanie, declare war, Cheney My ho is like Claire Huxtable, hard lustable All these rap n***as ga**ed up, combustible Feminine internet n***as, f**ing weirdos Me and Planet Asia like Albert Anastasia But we Asiatic, original fabric Never fabricated, ain't got it, never had it Used to play ball now you want to be a rapper [Verse 3: Fashawn] You know what, f** rappers We puff puff past 'em, turn n***as to blunt ashes Consider me retro and vintage I'm blowing dro out in Venice A role model and my role is simple That's captivate your soul and control your mental Teach you how to hold a pistol Go to Nobu and order the whole menu Glow like I wrote it with a solid gold pencil G sh**, cause thorough is how I keep it n***as know, every block every borough, it ain't a secret Flow rare like the first hair on a Mona Lisa Check your intellect cause you're in front of a teacher I roll the kind of reefer that'll give you amnesia Don't believe it well roll up a gram and have a damn seizure