BUILDING BLUEPRINT
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Lyrical Analysis of...
THE SAME THING
- If I had a big pile of money, it’d be like “Damn girl, you’re miles from ugly
- Let’s hop inside of my fuckin’ comfy ass Humvee, start fucking after we drive to my 20
- Million dollar mansion expanded so it’s zigzaggin’, don’t all my rivals look bummy?”
- Buncha trite understudies becomin’ senile and rusty, frontin’ like Tylenol junkies
- Plus that shit is typically lies, “It’s your own fault, dipshit I was givin’ all the signs”
- Yeah but some dude came and took em in the middle of the night
- Off your porch, blame yourself for the dismissal of the light, clock’s tickin’ like a mite
- When I’m on the mic spittin’, y’all gettin’ a signal from the heights, Google Pixels gon ignite
- Hookin’ the bait, then realize that they took it too late, but like Pusha and Drake
- Haters getting cooked by the lake, quit looking for cake, instead, start looking for cake
- Meaning tushie all day, boutta quake, it’s looking like a rookie mistake
- Better put your foot on the brake and throw the pen and notebook into space
- Which I’m beyond doing, plus, when I’m fried, you know I got that strong doob lit
- Like high watt usage, meetin’ up with the plug and the fog’s too thick
- I’m makin’ waves, floatin’ like King Kong’s doin,’ ain’t currently talkin’ ponds, stupid
- But I be flowin’ just like some strong fluids, so they better get them pipes if they think they conduit
- Coughing baby vs nuclear bomb, coughing bomb vs. nuclear baby
- It’s truly the same thing, so how come all of em wanna misuse that shit daily
- Like every fatso who misread groovy as gravy, and claim every day “Yeah I’m soon elevating”
- Only elevation I’m seeing’s when you shoot to 480, so when it comes to wins, yo future look hazy
- They haven’t figured out it’s rare, leave their egos needin’ significant repairs
- Like them Instagram impaired bitches injecting silicione in their derrieres
- And expectin’ to get richer off their pair while a group of crickets are bickering downstairs
- And I mean literally there, ain’t talkin’ vags, you prolly thought I meant chalmydia just there
- Ridin’ on the rap highway, stop for gas and accidentally expand my rat
- Ings, they enter the backslide phase, don’t be anti fate, just say “Yeah, that’s my gang”
- And point to some wack lightweights who are so racist, they pay people extra on Black Friday
- Inside of a bad mind state, sad that when I flatline they gonna slash my name
- This ain’t Times Square, inject some spyware and you might be denied air
- And you ain’t currently grounded, without a doubt got some spiked hair
- Call it horsepower, you a light mare tryna act stable, but you’re quite scared
- And saddled with panic, so you can label us monsters, cause we in your nightmares
- And fuck those herbs, cause I got clerical magic, destroyin’ their stereo blastin’
- That shit by using tactics that leave you paranoid, massive panic, very traumatic
- Provin’ most fools are meritocratic unbearable Panasonic addicts and have terrible habits
- A verified fact, listen to both sides, let’s see if the narrative matches
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