Growing Pains Video (MV)

Ahhhhhh
I scadoodle around the pussy every time I'm hard
Like an excavator, she just wanna dig my heart
Call me Eve Tumor, bitch, I'm a superstar
I'm about to crash out, probably shouldn't drive my car
The tank's on E, I probably wouldn't make it very far
I'm runnin' through 'em all, I'm someone you just can't guard
He thinks the gas is his, I said, no, it's ours
I hit in front of back, make it clap, my power stroke
Make her tap every time I try to hit the hoe
They told me, knock it off, you gotta stop hittin' folk
I'm tryna reach my goal, so I gotta hit some more
I'm tryna move to Alaska, Jesse Pinkman, bitch
I'm thinkin' bout your actions, throwin' up like I'm sick
We ain't Mordecai and Rigby, more like Morty and Rick
But you the one who's Morty, cause I teach you shit

Mortified of bein' put inside a grave tonight, huh
This could be the final night, the last take of your life, huh
Better settle all your scores and get your will right, huh
You know it's Coal, I come with poles and bring the pipe
Put the straps off your wrist and put it on your dick
I see you at the gym, but I see you not movin' shit
I be movin' shit, no take off when I go to lift
I'm the Migos, if they all could sing like Taylor Swift
I'm the definition of everything you thought you is
I'm the reason hoes say that you got no riz
I be on the toilet lookin' down like y'all my shits
I be on her chest and splurgin' out 'bout all my kids
I'm Mike Tyson, you're more like Dylan Dennis
I made a whole song to teach you what a fan is
I had to level up in need of some advancements
My armor bulletproof and in need of enchantments
You a psychopath, milk before the cereal
Serial killer, I'm killin' the material
Game of Thrones, I'm draggin' shit like I'm Imperial
You gotta wash out that coochie, it's bacterial

I ain't tryin' to f*ck that coochie, got some stank to it
Coal Miner got his heart broke, he make pain music
I'm flippin' bread for a livin' like I'm Jack Lewis
I get coochie for a livin', I don't fap to it
I ain't even a rapper, I'm a saint, I make jazz music
Put me in the jungle, I'm like a lion, I adapt to it
Sippin' on Miller Lite's while makin' a song, I'm a frat student
Stupid boy tryin' to play me, he a fat doofus
If you homeless, then you know we can't associate

Blue shit hangin' out my pockets, bitch, you know it's pape'
While you out here flexin' with your rollie, bitch, we know it's fake
I'm standin' on my money like I got some growing pains
My hands like a money counter, I make no mistakes
Eatin' good, little bitch, you got a low intake
For my next cut, yeah, I might get a throw or fade
I could shoot that shit from anywhere, I don't throw the game

I'm reportin' on the scene like I'm Ron Burgundy
Told her, come over, give me head, she said, yes, certainly
But she started nibblin' with her teeth, so I left urgently
I'm Saul Goodman, represent myself as my attorney
If we get into a fight, then he gon' need a gurney
I ain't even playin' sports, but I'm signin' jerseys
I ain't even ask for the crown, but they know I'm worthy
I made this song drinkin' Jack and eatin' beef jerky