It's an abomination, watching Donald trump bomb a nation
The dumber nations thinking they dominating
Brings up the conversation
I'm underrated
Ain't shit, like constipation
Son is patient, constant waiting
A bunch of hating, comes with Satan
The devils dick
Forever lit
Never quit
The best of the better fit
I read a letter with
My head in the heading
Snitches get stitches, they either dead or get threaded
I have a fetish for checking my credits
No regrets when I was flexing with exes
Why did I say why
My art official Intelligence, Aye Eye
Feeling Lois Stewy Griffin, I stay high
As Aye Sky
When I die
Then I cry
Wipe my eyes
And type the lies
I tell a story
No bible, its hella glory
My brain is storming
The Son and the rain is forming
I'm transforming
Them opps must was in his prime every damn morning
Day and night
Is it wrong, the way I write
I wanna be Left alone
Tired of picking up the effin Phone
My phone, is an iPhone
WTS Cypher is my song
Every snake has, his tone
I meant, his own
Never mind, just hiss on
Don't cross me like Chris, jump
I'm offbeat, my fist pump
King James know I'm a sinner, like Trish Thompson
With a thick woman, the bitch coming
At about six something
Make these birds, quit humming
They on my line, like a phone pole
She like dick in her, butt that's the wrong hole
A nasty kat
Nick knack patty whack
Kit kat daddy snack
Drop a bag at the kickback hacky sack
Nick knack patty whack
This kat, whacky Tack
Tick tack, happy black
Chocolate, Kit kat daddy snack
Lick that, laffy taffy
Ducked off like daffy
Donald wanna draft me
I'm up next, like giraffes be
Half sleep, perfecting my craft like a graph sheet
Went from undergrad
To an honors grad
You better come to class
If you wanna pass
This honors class
Sonny at school, like a summer class
Feeling Cole, in a dumber class
Numbers come with a comma
Mama come with the drama
Drama comes with the Acts (ax)
Not the cutlery to cut a tree, like lumber to Jacks
Time ticking, I'm the one two attack
Like Ricky, I have no gun to shoot back
Son.Wts - 1(666) SON-Latd, Pt. 2 Lyrics
Son.Wts - 1(666) SON-Latd, Pt. 2 Lyrics
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We currently do not have these lyrics.
If you would like to submit them, please use the form below.
It's an abomination, watching Donald trump bomb a nation
The dumber nations thinking they dominating
Brings up the conversation
I'm underrated
Ain't shit, like constipation
Son is patient, constant waiting
A bunch of hating, comes with Satan
The devils dick
Forever lit
Never quit
The best of the better fit
I read a letter with
My head in the heading
Snitches get stitches, they either dead or get threaded
I have a fetish for checking my credits
No regrets when I was flexing with exes
Why did I say why
My art official Intelligence, Aye Eye
Feeling Lois Stewy Griffin, I stay high
As Aye Sky
When I die
Then I cry
Wipe my eyes
And type the lies
I tell a story
No bible, its hella glory
My brain is storming
The Son and the rain is forming
I'm transforming
Them opps must was in his prime every damn morning
Day and night
Is it wrong, the way I write
I wanna be Left alone
Tired of picking up the effin Phone
My phone, is an iPhone
WTS Cypher is my song
Every snake has, his tone
I meant, his own
Never mind, just hiss on
Don't cross me like Chris, jump
I'm offbeat, my fist pump
King James know I'm a sinner, like Trish Thompson
With a thick woman, the bitch coming
At about six something
Make these birds, quit humming
They on my line, like a phone pole
She like dick in her, butt that's the wrong hole
A nasty kat
Nick knack patty whack
Kit kat daddy snack
Drop a bag at the kickback hacky sack
Nick knack patty whack
This kat, whacky Tack
Tick tack, happy black
Chocolate, Kit kat daddy snack
Lick that, laffy taffy
Ducked off like daffy
Donald wanna draft me
I'm up next, like giraffes be
Half sleep, perfecting my craft like a graph sheet
Went from undergrad
To an honors grad
You better come to class
If you wanna pass
This honors class
Sonny at school, like a summer class
Feeling Cole, in a dumber class
Numbers come with a comma
Mama come with the drama
Drama comes with the Acts (ax)
Not the cutlery to cut a tree, like lumber to Jacks
Time ticking, I'm the one two attack
Like Ricky, I have no gun to shoot back
The dumber nations thinking they dominating
Brings up the conversation
I'm underrated
Ain't shit, like constipation
Son is patient, constant waiting
A bunch of hating, comes with Satan
The devils dick
Forever lit
Never quit
The best of the better fit
I read a letter with
My head in the heading
Snitches get stitches, they either dead or get threaded
I have a fetish for checking my credits
No regrets when I was flexing with exes
Why did I say why
My art official Intelligence, Aye Eye
Feeling Lois Stewy Griffin, I stay high
As Aye Sky
When I die
Then I cry
Wipe my eyes
And type the lies
I tell a story
No bible, its hella glory
My brain is storming
The Son and the rain is forming
I'm transforming
Them opps must was in his prime every damn morning
Day and night
Is it wrong, the way I write
I wanna be Left alone
Tired of picking up the effin Phone
My phone, is an iPhone
WTS Cypher is my song
Every snake has, his tone
I meant, his own
Never mind, just hiss on
Don't cross me like Chris, jump
I'm offbeat, my fist pump
King James know I'm a sinner, like Trish Thompson
With a thick woman, the bitch coming
At about six something
Make these birds, quit humming
They on my line, like a phone pole
She like dick in her, butt that's the wrong hole
A nasty kat
Nick knack patty whack
Kit kat daddy snack
Drop a bag at the kickback hacky sack
Nick knack patty whack
This kat, whacky Tack
Tick tack, happy black
Chocolate, Kit kat daddy snack
Lick that, laffy taffy
Ducked off like daffy
Donald wanna draft me
I'm up next, like giraffes be
Half sleep, perfecting my craft like a graph sheet
Went from undergrad
To an honors grad
You better come to class
If you wanna pass
This honors class
Sonny at school, like a summer class
Feeling Cole, in a dumber class
Numbers come with a comma
Mama come with the drama
Drama comes with the Acts (ax)
Not the cutlery to cut a tree, like lumber to Jacks
Time ticking, I'm the one two attack
Like Ricky, I have no gun to shoot back
Writer: Keeson Coleman
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid