Empty Pocketz

I don't like these fucking rappers
That fake the flexing
Talking like they got some bands
Bro that's yo daddy's checkings
Acting like they're from the mud
While they been middle classing
Homie you ain't from the slums
You never did the blasting
But you've made this habit
Of talking like you bout it
I'm not either but at least I'm fucking real about it
You say I talk big
For a broke bitch
And the fact is
That's some real shit

Pockets stay empty but Imma keep flexing
Flexing with this pen and bitch you could learn a lesson
Pockets stay empty but Imma keep flexing
Flexing with this pen and bitch you could learn a lesson

New foe just appeared but you don't wanna get cracking
Hide behind all your bros but Imma get to smashing
Up your intellect cuz that shit ain't more than fucking average
And your brain can't handle clever shit so you just turned cadaveric
Not tryna be dramatic
But the pen Is automatic
Lyrics sharp as thorns now on your dome like you the son of Mary
And my sins about to grow
Cuz my words are bound to blow
More holes inside your head than on a New York City road

Pockets stay empty but Imma keep flexing
Flexing with this pen and bitch you could learn a lesson
Pockets stay empty but Imma keep flexing
Flexing with this pen and bitch you could learn a lesson



Credits
Writer(s): Hamza Hasan
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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