(Nate Case)
Man I fuckin lost it in quarantine you gossip
A faucet I’m dripping off looking like I criss to cross often
You soften, used to be fucking hard til you got fucking scarred Hawthorn
Ha-ha looking like I gotcha
Looking like I fucking wanna kill you with sriracha
Oh my God you nada
Oh my God I thought of
Thought of me a prodigy I’m looking like you gotta be
Hold up I’m the best fucking rapper in the county
I been the best you been around me
I been best when I was drowsy
I been looking like you been looking back
I been looking like you doubted
Hold up when I fouled it
Hold up guess who found it
I’m the one who did it first I’m the who did it best
You’re the one who did it worse you’re the one who didn’t rest
My God, I fucking jacked off, I fucking slacked off
And I’m still the fucking best
Man I fucking lost it you looking like you caught this
Bar over your head and it got you feeling nauseous
Got me feeling cautious
Looking like I fought this bitch
But I still talk this shit
And I'm knocking while they walking cuz I knock knock
Looking like a ha-ha
What you wanna fuck with me but I karate chop ya
Cuz you wanna get ja
But you looking like I'm looking like I’m looking like iracha
Man I fucking lost it I’m going way to Boston
I’m running in the relay what you delay when it’s awesome
I don’t need a faucet I need a fucking sponsor
What you fucking cost him I need a way gone sir
Need a way fonder I been way over yonder
Looking like Bithanya I do this shit for Donda
Need a fucking sponsor need a fucking posse
Looking like I when a fucker do it with a ha-ha
(Ca$his)
What I look like?
I ain't no motherfuckin’ bitch
I'm a slide if it's fire, I'm a ride to that hit
Now what I look like?
I keep a Glock with a switch
And smoke a ounce a day ahead
So it's lit yes from drive-bys and walk-ups
To sidewalks chalked up
Steppin' over bodies
I'm glad they never caught us
I'm just bein' honest I'm slaughterin' my opponents
Turned Benzino to Femzino, smoked him
I line bars with rhyme style, I shine street
I grind hard and use beats like they cleats
Two four fives on me, that's Siamese
I smoke rat packs of G's like fire weed
Raised a finger in the middle
Bangin' since I was a little
Demonstratin' heavy weight
Legend on the instrumental
Capo got it locked
I'm shuttin' down the block
Oh, suckas get outta line
Get lined up and pop folk