Goodnight, Fella

Skraaahh, mic check, one two
Uh, Look

What the synopsis is?
Make a fuck rapper lose oxygen
Mans on a mission like CO2, spitting until I see O2
Fuck the judge and the CO too, tell em to rot again
For you clusterfucks who wanna ramble
Toughen up, you buttercup, taking roles like you gamble
Coming through sprayin, prolly need another ankle
Sit your nickle ass back down before you get canceled
I'm not your favorite rapper's favorite rapper
I'm more of his biggest nightmare
Look at this nigga's right here
Fuck your respawns, I'm the one giving you life here (this ain't no game bish!)
I skurt my Beamer then vroom to your bitch drawers
My third eye beam can shoot through a brick wall
Just being frank, I'm getting Franks, you being frantic
Find me where the green go, but when snakes hiss, panic! (Ah riba, riba!)
So go head and rattle, fraud
(rattle, fraud)
You drenched your kills in Apple Sauce, we drenched our quills in bloody battle scars
Fuck a Wess and a vest, I'll head West and invest
Get stretched if you lying too, popping them meds
Think you a hero with the S on your chest?
What if I place that S with a line through atop your head?
Bitch you're dead!
It gets cold in Quebec and now I freestyle on top of my head
And I come in right back and I scream: "fuck the feds"

This was the killing, now it's the motherfucking burial... BITCH! Haha!
In the ground, uh look!

They act like they really the brightest in the room
Have em hanging off the roof like chandeliers
Fights in the alleys done made us, yell: the champ is here (BOMAYÉ!)
My fanbase location is a damn whole station that's so adjacent to the holy place of the Maker
Give that work with razors like a bonus they gave ya (work!)
Poke your ego with a nose bone, Mojito with some mo foam, mo heat though, I got more for em
So know the ropes, cause they'll be the ones you'll get choked on
Treat this rap like taking out trash in the winter with no coat on
In house slippers, after dealing with a rude Samaritan (what you call that, what you call that?)
In other words, she's a mean-mouth giver
You senile spitters, I'll see Chow's for dinner
While your lips chapped, you feel bad, you'll see Ciaos for dinner
Better get right on your knees, when you hear the BOW, bitches
Braaaah!
Goodnight fella...



Credits
Writer(s): Mohamed Doukoure
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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