turn around
Hol' up
Turn it right round
Right round, baby
Turn it right round
I'm in town, baby
Write it down
Play games with me
Find out
They say stupid games have stupid prizes
They can't keep me from my
Vices or devices
Chopping up the beat
Like ISIS
I would buy you out
But I don't like your prices
It's a crisis
You're crying it for Christ
(God, that's embarrassing)
Yeah, yeah, yeah
'Cause like
I'm probably the worst person
To come to mind
When it comes to speaking my mind
I'd rather listen
Analytical mind
Enemies lucky to have me
I'm sparing these characters
Like a pacifist
Hold up
Let that sink in
Big mistake when
You thought I was
Running out of time
(Out of time, Out of time)
Out of touch, maybe
Or is it luck?
'Cause I keep coming back like
I was made for this
(Sorry, just let me write that down
Yep, yep)
Right round, baby
Turn it right round
I'm in town, baby
Write it down
Play games with me
Find ou-ou-out
Money of top of me
Yeah, money on top of her
(Haha)
Money on top of me
(Sheesh)
Money on top of her
I ain't popular
(Nuh-uh)
I ain't popular
(Ayy)
I ain't popular
(Ayy)
Now quit your romanticising
I'm just dressed to kill
I'm underdressed
I showed up late
But I still pressed this shit
No creases, you're impressed with it
(Wow!)
Your girl undressed to this
(Ayy, that's bad)
You can't mess with this
(Ayy)
Tryna match my rizz
My charisma
Tried so hard
Circuit broke like flip flops
Tryna catch my attention
Shooting cheap ass trick shots
Tatted all over
One too many chains
Like a wish.com
Rick Ross
Said he was strapped up like
Criss cross, his loss
I didn't even need to pick a fight to win
I'm overkill
It's a no show
Weak flow
Bleak glow
Reap what you sow kinda 'sitch bro
It's a shame that your claim to fame is a
Lame, tame, no aim rap game
Got no flame just a name
With no game
I've got my crosshair on you
But you know that I no-scope
No hope for you
It's dope how close you came to
Getting whooped by this lyrical stroke
It's is a joke
I'm a stroke of genius
I'm the real life Ferb and Phineas
(Wait, wait, wait, wait)
You're-you're just Candace
(Oh no)
G-go crib to mom
Nah, I'm done
Right round, baby
Turn it right round
I'm in town, baby
Write it down
Play games with me
Find ou-out-out
Turn it right round
Right round, baby
Turn it right round
I'm in town, baby
Write it down
Play games with me
Find out
They say stupid games have stupid prizes
They can't keep me from my
Vices or devices
Chopping up the beat
Like ISIS
I would buy you out
But I don't like your prices
It's a crisis
You're crying it for Christ
(God, that's embarrassing)
Yeah, yeah, yeah
'Cause like
I'm probably the worst person
To come to mind
When it comes to speaking my mind
I'd rather listen
Analytical mind
Enemies lucky to have me
I'm sparing these characters
Like a pacifist
Hold up
Let that sink in
Big mistake when
You thought I was
Running out of time
(Out of time, Out of time)
Out of touch, maybe
Or is it luck?
'Cause I keep coming back like
I was made for this
(Sorry, just let me write that down
Yep, yep)
Right round, baby
Turn it right round
I'm in town, baby
Write it down
Play games with me
Find ou-ou-out
Money of top of me
Yeah, money on top of her
(Haha)
Money on top of me
(Sheesh)
Money on top of her
I ain't popular
(Nuh-uh)
I ain't popular
(Ayy)
I ain't popular
(Ayy)
Now quit your romanticising
I'm just dressed to kill
I'm underdressed
I showed up late
But I still pressed this shit
No creases, you're impressed with it
(Wow!)
Your girl undressed to this
(Ayy, that's bad)
You can't mess with this
(Ayy)
Tryna match my rizz
My charisma
Tried so hard
Circuit broke like flip flops
Tryna catch my attention
Shooting cheap ass trick shots
Tatted all over
One too many chains
Like a wish.com
Rick Ross
Said he was strapped up like
Criss cross, his loss
I didn't even need to pick a fight to win
I'm overkill
It's a no show
Weak flow
Bleak glow
Reap what you sow kinda 'sitch bro
It's a shame that your claim to fame is a
Lame, tame, no aim rap game
Got no flame just a name
With no game
I've got my crosshair on you
But you know that I no-scope
No hope for you
It's dope how close you came to
Getting whooped by this lyrical stroke
It's is a joke
I'm a stroke of genius
I'm the real life Ferb and Phineas
(Wait, wait, wait, wait)
You're-you're just Candace
(Oh no)
G-go crib to mom
Nah, I'm done
Right round, baby
Turn it right round
I'm in town, baby
Write it down
Play games with me
Find ou-out-out
Credits
Writer(s): Veer Vaibhav Singh Rathore
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Link
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