(Pew, pew- pew)
First person shooter mode
We turnin' your song to a funeral
To them niggas that say
they wan' off us
You better be talkin'
'bout workin' in cubicles
Yeah, them boys had it locked,
but I knew the code
Lot of niggas debatin' my numeral
Not the three, not the two,
I'm the U- N- O
Yeah
Numero U- N- O
Me and Drizzy, this shit
like the Super Bowl
Man, this shit damn near big as the—
Big as the what? Big as the
what? Big as the what?
Big as the Super Bowl
But the difference is
It's just two guys playin' shit
that they did in the studio
Niggas usually send
they verses back to me
And they be terrible, just like a two- year old
I love a dinner with some
fine women
When they start debatin'
about who the G.O.A.T
I'm like "Go 'head, say it then,
who the G.O.A.T.?
"Who the G.O.A.T.? Who the G.O.A.T.?
Who the G.O.A.T.?"
Who you bitches really rootin' for?
Like a kid that act bad from
January to November
Nigga
It's just you and Cole
Big as the what? Big as the what?
Big as the what?(Ayy)
Big as the Super Bowl
Niggas so thirsty to
put me in beef
Dissectin' my words
and start lookin' too deep
I look at the tweets and start
suckin' my teeth
I'm lettin' it rock 'cause I
love the mystique
I still wanna get me a song with YB
Can't trust everything
that you saw on IG
Just know if I diss you
I'd make sure you know that I hit
you like I'm on your caller ID
I'm namin' the album The Fall Off
It's pretty ironic 'cause it
ain't no fall off for me
Still in this bitch gettin' bigger
They waitin' on the kid to come
drop like a father to be
Love when they argue the hardest MC
Is it K- Dot? Is it Aubrey? Or me?
We the big three like we started a league,
but right now
I feel like Muhammed Ali
Huh, yeah, yeah, huh- huh,
yeah, Muhammed Ali
The one that they call when they shit
ain't connectin' no more
Feel like I got a job in IT
Rhymin' with me is the biggest mistake
The Spider- Man meme
is me lookin' at Drake
It's like we recruited your homies
to beat demon deacons
We got 'em attending a wake
Hate how the gang gotta
wait for the boss
Man, this shit like a prison escape
Everybody steppers,
well fuck it, then everybody breakfast
And I'm 'bout to clear up my
plate (Huh, huh, huh)
When I show up, it's motion
picture blockbuster
The G.O.A.T. with the golden pin,
the top toucher
The spot rusher,
sprayed his whole shit up, the crop duster
Not Russia, but apply pressure
To your cranium,
Cole's automatic when aimin' 'em
With The Boy in the status, a stadium
Nigga
I'm 'bout to click out on this shit
I'm 'bout to click, woah
I'm 'bout to click out on this shit
I'm 'bout to click, woah
I'm down to click down you hoes
and make a crime scene
I click the trigger on the
stick like a high beam
Man, I was Bentley wheel whippin'
when I was nineteen
She call my number, leave her hangin',
she got dry- cleaned
She got a Android,
her messages is lime green
I search one name,
and end up seein' twenty tings
Nadine, Christine, Justine, Kathleen,
Charlene, Pauline, Claudine
Man, I pack 'em in this phone
like some sardines
And they send me naked pictures,
it's the small things
You niggas is still takin'
pictures on a dog stream
My youngers richer than you
rappers and they all stream
I really hate that you been sellin'
them some false dreams
Man, if your pub was up for sale,
I buy the whole thing
Will they ever give me flowers? Well,
of course not
They don't wanna have that talk,
'cause it's a sore spot
They know The Boy the one
they gotta boycott
I told Jim and Jammer I use a
GRAMMY as a door stop
Girl gave me some head because I need it
And if I fuck with you,
then after I might eat it, wait
Niggas talkin' 'bout when
this gon' be repeated
What the fuck bro? I'm one
away from Michael
Nigga, beat it, nigga, beat it, what?
Beat it, what? Beat it, what? Beat it,
what? Beat it, what?
Beat it, what? Beat it, what? Beat it,
what? Beat it, what?
Beat it, what? Beat it, what? Beat it,
what? Beat it, what?
Don't even pay me back on none them favors,
