Talking To Myself
Y'all heard of this Desert Rose dude?
He's walkin' all over the town Thinkin' he's the shit
He's aight at best, this mother fucker Overrated to be honest
I be listening to that shit
You know I Saw him in the fuckin' shop the other Day?
He's fuckin' talkin' to himself always Thinkin' he's some type of Wordsmith
Nah, this mother fucker Gonzo as fuck bro
I'm from utah
These bitches never gon' know that
I'm from the streets
I ain't never lived in no cul de sac
I'm not with it
Whippin' through the sandy streets
On my Pedal bike
Meet you later at a dusty creek
Dried up
The water body or ya pussy?
When I tell you off
Cuz you wanna be so pushy
I seen this shit before baby
I ain't a rookie
You playin' hooky
Read a bookie
Askin' for a cookie
Wait
I rhyme stupid
I know
Get it off ya chest
Go and talk ya shit
I'm in the corner actin' unimpressed
You like 5'3
Don't put ya hands on me
I'll knock you out
Cold turkey
Give you STD
How the fuck Ethan got B on a track?
Cuz when it's me on a track
I can feel the distract
I Can't think straight
We made a mothafuckin' mixtape
Desert Hills at the sushi spot
Eatin' a fish plate
Bitch wait
I'm in the distance
Livin' common
Fuck Desert Rose bro!
He ain't never Gonna get a Grammy, you stupid ass Hoe!
You stupid, layin' all over this mother Fucker like he owns this fuckin' joint
Fuck that mother fucker
He's always Talkin' to himself in the fuckin' Corner like some god damn goon
Fuck that mother fucker! Fuck him! Fuck him livin' all over this fuckin' Rap game
Fuck all you mother Fuckers
I was at detention after party
With my woahs
Down in Southern California
Fuckin' lots of hoes
This ain't burning man
No Dapper Dan
We rockin' thrifted clothes
Sun was beaming
Hella hot
Shine on the desert Rose
Wait
Exotic women
Influencer for a living
Foreign cars
But my Kia does the driftin'
Like I'm on another mission
Call me Bond cuz I ain't trippin'
Dusty lungs I hope you drinkin' lots Of water
I beat you up like Jesse slaughter From her father
I don't mean to be a bother
But I got an offer
Tie 'em up, roll 'em up
Roll 'em up another blunt
Wait, wait, wait, yeah
Fuckin' gonzo as fuck bro. Imma Keep it a buck fifty this time
I'm sick of this shit bro, always talkin' To himself in the corner by himself
Always by his lonesome
This mother fucker WEIRD! It's About time all you mother fuckers Figure that out
He's walkin' all over the town Thinkin' he's the shit
He's aight at best, this mother fucker Overrated to be honest
I be listening to that shit
You know I Saw him in the fuckin' shop the other Day?
He's fuckin' talkin' to himself always Thinkin' he's some type of Wordsmith
Nah, this mother fucker Gonzo as fuck bro
I'm from utah
These bitches never gon' know that
I'm from the streets
I ain't never lived in no cul de sac
I'm not with it
Whippin' through the sandy streets
On my Pedal bike
Meet you later at a dusty creek
Dried up
The water body or ya pussy?
When I tell you off
Cuz you wanna be so pushy
I seen this shit before baby
I ain't a rookie
You playin' hooky
Read a bookie
Askin' for a cookie
Wait
I rhyme stupid
I know
Get it off ya chest
Go and talk ya shit
I'm in the corner actin' unimpressed
You like 5'3
Don't put ya hands on me
I'll knock you out
Cold turkey
Give you STD
How the fuck Ethan got B on a track?
Cuz when it's me on a track
I can feel the distract
I Can't think straight
We made a mothafuckin' mixtape
Desert Hills at the sushi spot
Eatin' a fish plate
Bitch wait
I'm in the distance
Livin' common
Fuck Desert Rose bro!
He ain't never Gonna get a Grammy, you stupid ass Hoe!
You stupid, layin' all over this mother Fucker like he owns this fuckin' joint
Fuck that mother fucker
He's always Talkin' to himself in the fuckin' Corner like some god damn goon
Fuck that mother fucker! Fuck him! Fuck him livin' all over this fuckin' Rap game
Fuck all you mother Fuckers
I was at detention after party
With my woahs
Down in Southern California
Fuckin' lots of hoes
This ain't burning man
No Dapper Dan
We rockin' thrifted clothes
Sun was beaming
Hella hot
Shine on the desert Rose
Wait
Exotic women
Influencer for a living
Foreign cars
But my Kia does the driftin'
Like I'm on another mission
Call me Bond cuz I ain't trippin'
Dusty lungs I hope you drinkin' lots Of water
I beat you up like Jesse slaughter From her father
I don't mean to be a bother
But I got an offer
Tie 'em up, roll 'em up
Roll 'em up another blunt
Wait, wait, wait, yeah
Fuckin' gonzo as fuck bro. Imma Keep it a buck fifty this time
I'm sick of this shit bro, always talkin' To himself in the corner by himself
Always by his lonesome
This mother fucker WEIRD! It's About time all you mother fuckers Figure that out
Credits
Writer(s): Bexley Dallape
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Link
© 2024 All rights reserved. Rockol.com S.r.l. Website image policy
Rockol
- Rockol only uses images and photos made available for promotional purposes (“for press use”) by record companies, artist managements and p.r. agencies.
- Said images are used to exert a right to report and a finality of the criticism, in a degraded mode compliant to copyright laws, and exclusively inclosed in our own informative content.
- Only non-exclusive images addressed to newspaper use and, in general, copyright-free are accepted.
- Live photos are published when licensed by photographers whose copyright is quoted.
- Rockol is available to pay the right holder a fair fee should a published image’s author be unknown at the time of publishing.
Feedback
Please immediately report the presence of images possibly not compliant with the above cases so as to quickly verify an improper use: where confirmed, we would immediately proceed to their removal.