[Hook]
I’m a schizo, fat like Lizzo
My lyrics’ll make you go, “what the frick yo!”
I’m just a kid, yo
There is hope
Layin' on my pillow in home
Didn’t have to go this low
But I did though
You still owe me money
Like Mr. Krabs but this is no kid show
I’ma have to spit slow
I’m a schizo, fat like Lizzo
My lyrics’ll make you go, “what the frick yo”
I’m just a kid, yo
There is hope
Layin' on my pillow in home
Didn’t have to go this low
But I did though
You still owe me money
Like Mr. Krabs but this is no kid show
I’ma have to spit slow

[Verse 1]
'Cause I’m goin' way too fast
For you motherfuckers at home with Google Chrome
I be stalkin' people on the fuckin' internet
Yo girl asked, “Is it in it yet?”
She left you, now she’s lickin' on my dick
It’s because you have no intellect
Yo girl said, “Ayo, your bars are so sick”
I’m eatin' her out but it isn’t even dinner yet
Muslim with a bomb on his chest
Ariana Grande concert
Now they’re all hurt
Y’all been playin' the game too long
So now is my turn
Put an AirPod in the ear, chug a beer
I can’t hear
All year 'round
You new 'round here?
Oh, don’t fear, I don’t like queers
So if one steps up to me they’ll get killed
Get grilled, you little bitch
Get a couple of stitches, that reminds me
Like Tristan (bitch), comin' back like he playin' with the mixes
Fuck that song
I got a magnum dong
Like Tristan when he bought condoms
I got a revolver: .44
I got whore opening the door 'cause she want some
[Hook]
I’m a schizo, fat like Lizzo
My lyrics’ll make you go, “what the frick yo!”
I’m just a kid, yo
There is hope
Layin' on my pillow in home
Didn’t have to go this low
But I did though
You still owe me money
Like Mr. Krabs but this is no kid show
I’ma have to spit slow
I’m a schizo, fat like Lizzo
My lyrics’ll make you go, “what the frick yo!”
I’m just a kid, yo
There is hope
Layin' on my pillow in home
Didn’t have to go this low
But I did though
You still owe me money
Like Mr. Krabs but this is no kid show
I’ma have to spit slow

[Verse 2]
'Cause I’m goin' way too fast
For you motherfuckers at home chillin' up on yo couch
I don’t give a damn about the shit that you’re spittin' outta your mouth
All I care is about makin' them racks and makin' them stack
Get a few plaques, make sure the frame’s all cracked
If you look out your window at night
You won’t even see me 'cause I’m wearin' all black
I’m a balla (How do I know that, for sure?)
'Cause I got the Chevrolet Impala
Twenty-inch blade rims
Makin' a diss on Charlie 'cause I hate him
You seem mistaken
I wanna talk to this bitch but she’s taken
I roasted your mom in a battle
So I guess that means that I’m cookin' bacon
Let’s meet up at around 8:10
I like my drink stirred, bitch, not shaken
I got a victim and she’s Asian
Throw her in a river, but first I’m takin'
Some body parts, but enough of that
I don’t want anybody to discover that
I got Ted Bundy’s murders, but double that
I’m the king of rap, where’s my medal at?
[Hook]
I’m a skitzo, fat like Lizzo
My lyrics’ll make you go, “what the frick yo!”
I’m just a kid, yo
There is hope
Layin' on my pillow in home
Didn’t have to go this low
But I did though
You still owe me money
Like Mr. Krabs but this is no kid show
I’ma have to spit slow
I’m a skitzo, fat like Lizzo
My lyrics’ll make you go, “what the frick yo!”
I’m just a kid, yo
There is hope
Layin' on my pillow in home
Didn’t have to go this low
But I did though
You still owe me money
Like Mr. Krabs but this is no kid show
I’ma have to spit slow