[Intro]
This is my sport, it's my game
There's a new rapper in town
And his background is the same of all the previous ones:
"I come from that block", "My bro still deals it"
"I'll buy my mom a villa, I'll buy my mom a house"
"I'll buy my mom a car, I'll buy my mom a phone"
Always talking about your fucking mother, for fuck's sake
Greg Willen, don't sleep

[Verse]
These rappers always talk about their mothers, that's disgusting
You know what? It looks like they have Oedipus complex
Brother, get your cock hard and get inside the room
And go fuck your mother once for all, just like Speranza says
Rappers with my culture, maybe just a couple
I earn as much as a Jеw in Manhattan, I will grow myself some payot
I'm riding like in thе palio, what are you talking about?
My album, bro, is like Stonehenghe, 'cause every track is a megalith
I'll be forever, I'm a bio-winner, I'm sorry, but however
I'm the only one who would have been successful even at something else
You've got to work hard for my feat, brother, be smart
Or else I'll rip away the organs of another clown, like in Operation
Now vote for Professione, new Sala
I eat everything in bed, and the pussy is halal
If I drop my shit close to you, you're in trouble
I'll destroy your album maxi, I'll write over my car "Fake Taxi"
They all talk about money like Mahmood
You don't like my hit song just 'cause it wasn't made by you
They all try to be the craziest
But I think they're just crazy, yes, crazy for Jesus
I'll chop some heads, they get decorations on their faces 'cause they feel insecure
And these would be your gangsters?
Open your own label, get yourself a nice office
And as soon as Ernia gets in, he'll chokeslam the first person he sees
Milanese, baby, they'll give me a certificate
My double F doesn't stand for "Fabri Fibra", that's "Figa e Fatturato"
And I'm the best, and I'm not talking about George
I'll be the guest of these girl even when I'll be dead, like in Ghost
She doesn't hold me by the throat, brother, but by my handle
I want to be noble as a status, not in my spirit
And the more you act like a rebel, the more you look like an asshole
The more it looks like you want to look like Enzo Salvi in Natale in India (Okay)
Ooh, alright
I've rapped everywhere, brother, even on an ukulele
You wonder why they want to do me all together
Bro, I tie my cock around my thigh, just like Makélélé (Keep going, keep going, keep going)
You've never turned on your brain
But you still complain about living in a shithole
Now think of a way to excuse yourself
In Italy the rule is this: "If you don't make it, that's never your fault"
I'm the only one who increased his incomes during the pandemic
They write on the walls: "Ernia for Minister of Economy"
I'm bullying my colleagues
And my cock has got a life of his own, when I fuck is like L'Albero Azzurro
These fifteen years old kids are criticizing me, come on
You look for the hair on the egg, as if the egg was brooded by you
Now that you've left a comment you can't just fuck Ratajkowski
I put a punchline in every bar