[ Featuring Fellaair ]
Alright
Can I go back just a little bit
Bars for bars
I don't f*ck with y'all
I might put a lawyer on retainer
Just to f*ck with y'all
I might bring your sister to my house
And let her hit my weed
Told your cousin that your music is trash
And they had to agree
I am cold
Mr. Two Degrees
Sick when I spit it
Every lyric got a damn disease
Song before last I was mad
And had to speak my peace
Now I come for necks
F*ck a mic I use a guillotine
I'm in the mix like a raw egg
And you know I keep the kin near me
Like my name Greg
With your mother watching Barbie
It's a bootleg
We're just friends
Don't worry about it
Naw it's cool, Bob
Chiller than the man with the pipe that is corncob
Beast with a beauty and behind me is a big mob
All up in the club getting turnt like a door knob
All up in the club getting sloppier than blowjobs
I am so outlandish
Hitting pirouettes to my catalogue expansion
Eight missed calls, but no caller ID
Would you please tell your boo
They can't be my companion
