Death Certificate - 2022 Remaster
It's time you listen to me
You can sit your fucking
Ass back down in your seat
I'mma teach you to be humble
I don't rumble in the streets
And I don't run in with no gun
But I be studying your beats
You can call me PMS
Cause I be bloodying your sheets
Put a period in your career
You mumbling freaks
I may be a vegan
But I'll be having this beef
Deep into your jugular
I'll bury my teeth
I'm starting to get sick of this
Your shit is so ridiculous
Believe in what you say?
I believe more in Saint Nicholas
Yachty, Xan
All them lil' faggots fucking blow me
Feed them to the maggots
Put them Six Nine feet below me
There is nothing you can show me
That is worth my time, homie
All you ever do is sound
Auto-tuned and phony
When I'm all but done with you
I promise that you gon' be
Dying on your tour bus
By an overdose and lonely
To be honest
I'm not the one to start shit
But I'm not the one
To sit back when you tarnish
The legacy of rappers
And all them old artists
That paved the way for you
To do your bullshit from the start, bitch
You better show some fucking respect
This is serious
Not your kindergarten recess
It's kind of fitting
Since all you named Lil'
Because your shit belongs
In a diaper, you're not ill
You little younglings can
Consider me your teacher
I'm contemplating bodying you
So call a preacher
Get a real musician
To write you your eulogy
There ain't a thing any
Of you can ever do to me
Don't you see?
I'm not scared of you bastards
Nobody in the world
Believes that you're gangsters
And you're not sick on the mic
I'm sick of you types
You spit what you like
And then you thinking you hype
I'm speaking for the culture
That you almost killed, bitch
I take it on myself to
Flick your fucking killswitch
I put a stop to this madness
You can bank on it
If I allowed you to live
You better thank me for it
But I'm not done by a longshot
You ass clowns
I got a crosshair on your heads
When you're in my town
I more than frown on your
Choppy shit, you cocky pricks
You talk a lotta shit
And now I gotta deal with this
I got more energy
More hatred that be left in me
And if you try to charge at me
You'll be left with a hefty fee
There ain't no stopping
When I'm popping off at the mouth
Challenging you wannabe rappers
From North to South
I'm laying down an open
Invitation to all of you
Mumble-trap-yappy
Wannabe-rapping-honey-boo-boo's
I'm going through everybody
Like I'm Tebow
Spitting lyrical ammunition
I'm not a G, though
I make your weak ass
Crumble like a Cheeto
I take you on all at a time
Future is me though
Spraying with my Lil' Uzi
Killing Yung Lean, yo
You bitches better Mosey on
'Fore I get mean, ho
You're not worth more of my time
You just making noise
You better live up to your name
Commit Suicideboys
Don't feel flattered
That you got any attention
Now follow in the footsteps
Of XXXTentacion
You can sit your fucking
Ass back down in your seat
I'mma teach you to be humble
I don't rumble in the streets
And I don't run in with no gun
But I be studying your beats
You can call me PMS
Cause I be bloodying your sheets
Put a period in your career
You mumbling freaks
I may be a vegan
But I'll be having this beef
Deep into your jugular
I'll bury my teeth
I'm starting to get sick of this
Your shit is so ridiculous
Believe in what you say?
I believe more in Saint Nicholas
Yachty, Xan
All them lil' faggots fucking blow me
Feed them to the maggots
Put them Six Nine feet below me
There is nothing you can show me
That is worth my time, homie
All you ever do is sound
Auto-tuned and phony
When I'm all but done with you
I promise that you gon' be
Dying on your tour bus
By an overdose and lonely
To be honest
I'm not the one to start shit
But I'm not the one
To sit back when you tarnish
The legacy of rappers
And all them old artists
That paved the way for you
To do your bullshit from the start, bitch
You better show some fucking respect
This is serious
Not your kindergarten recess
It's kind of fitting
Since all you named Lil'
Because your shit belongs
In a diaper, you're not ill
You little younglings can
Consider me your teacher
I'm contemplating bodying you
So call a preacher
Get a real musician
To write you your eulogy
There ain't a thing any
Of you can ever do to me
Don't you see?
I'm not scared of you bastards
Nobody in the world
Believes that you're gangsters
And you're not sick on the mic
I'm sick of you types
You spit what you like
And then you thinking you hype
I'm speaking for the culture
That you almost killed, bitch
I take it on myself to
Flick your fucking killswitch
I put a stop to this madness
You can bank on it
If I allowed you to live
You better thank me for it
But I'm not done by a longshot
You ass clowns
I got a crosshair on your heads
When you're in my town
I more than frown on your
Choppy shit, you cocky pricks
You talk a lotta shit
And now I gotta deal with this
I got more energy
More hatred that be left in me
And if you try to charge at me
You'll be left with a hefty fee
There ain't no stopping
When I'm popping off at the mouth
Challenging you wannabe rappers
From North to South
I'm laying down an open
Invitation to all of you
Mumble-trap-yappy
Wannabe-rapping-honey-boo-boo's
I'm going through everybody
Like I'm Tebow
Spitting lyrical ammunition
I'm not a G, though
I make your weak ass
Crumble like a Cheeto
I take you on all at a time
Future is me though
Spraying with my Lil' Uzi
Killing Yung Lean, yo
You bitches better Mosey on
'Fore I get mean, ho
You're not worth more of my time
You just making noise
You better live up to your name
Commit Suicideboys
Don't feel flattered
That you got any attention
Now follow in the footsteps
Of XXXTentacion
Credits
Writer(s): Martin Möller
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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