TOO HARD (da kinG and Will Da Ki...

TOO HARD - Yung George ft. Big John (da kinG and Will Da KiIlla Diss Track)

(George Washington and John Adams Rapping Parody)

Set on September 28, 1789

Chorus: (Start of beat)

Yeah, you a bitch and a sore loser, I know you takin’ the L too hard.

You’re cryin’ ‘bout the smallest shit, I know the eight Tyrones in yo bedroom right now goin’ too hard.

Pull up on this mothafucka and have him see the Lord, bullets flyin’ from the blue car.

I heard they didn’t take the ‘roids and PEDs, damn, they just screwed themselves hard.

Verse 1: (0:12)

Ayy, peasant, ain’t no need to lay off the ‘roids ‘cause your wife’s already on my dick.

You bums ain’t gettin’ shit, they don’t fuck with yo trash sound, they all bumpin’ my shit.

If you really loyal, you’d stay no matter what, so Imma make your bitch my bitch.

Yeah, I see you, send you to the ER on all the meds, Imma win, even known by the blindest.

My chains gonna blind ya, shoot at the eyes and you’re blinded, I ain’t afraid to show up at your location.

Pull up in my private jet, no Epstein, but I’m kinda impatient and Imma rock you and make you hit yo head on the kitchen island, I ain’t give a fuck ‘bout my bad reputation.

Creepin’ till you hear the boom in the metro ‘cause I know you run from confrontation, and let’s not forget your hobby of masturbation.

For your information, while you was doin’ that, I took your queen, you fake-ass king, she checked me out and we started matin’.

Yeah, I ain’t poor, I can afford transportation, yeah, like you ride 1-inchers, Imma slime out yo homies while I ride my knight.

I can afford to make my soldiers good, don’t disrespect my boi Freddy, or I’ll make sure you die in the next five nights.

This ain’t no game, it’s real life, you couldn’t even dream of bein’ me at my height, you pull out a knife but I’m still fuckin’ on your wife.

Yeah, my Ruger might bite but not quite, give you a fright when I pull out the belt one-handed like I’m Matt Rife.

But you’re the joke here, remember that, yeah me and John finna mug you like we’re Bonnie & Clyde.

Yeah, we got you surrounded now ‘cause us and the French became allies.

Take away all your joy when we shove you in the riptide, I know water’s in your eyes but don’t be lookin’ at me sad-eyed.

Better never again show your face in public, we finna make you hated worldwide. (Ayy my boi Big John, come fuck him up some more)

Chorus: (1:14)

Yeah, you a bitch and a sore loser, I know you takin’ the L too hard.

You’re cryin’ ‘bout the smallest shit, I know the eight Tyrones in yo bedroom right now goin’ too hard.

Pull up on this mothafucka and have him see the Lord, bullets flyin’ from the blue car.

I heard they didn’t take the ‘roids and PEDs, damn, they just screwed themselves hard.

Verse 2: (1:27)

Yeah, Imma fuck you up some more, but don’t get too excited ‘cause I ain’t comin’ from behind.

Yeah, I’m too fuckin’ famous, when I sign a ‘graph, y’know Imma create a beeline.

You know I run my city, committed to thuggin’ on the streets for life.

You don't wanna cross paths wit’ me, fry an opp like a goddamn pork rind.

Yeah, you can’t get at us, we’re protected, we got a Constitution.

And a Bill of Rights, meanwhile, all your female family members venture into prostitution.

I know you’re interested, and maybe that way, you’ll finally provide some contribution.

Oh wait, you didn’t even know that was a real word, bitch, quit tryna tear down evolution.

Yeah, and fuck you too, British East India Company, your tea’s utter dogshit.

Stop bein’ such a goddamn rich kid, you below our class and you ain’t gon’ mog shit.

Yeah, I’m a goddamn hacker, drop yo IP and SSN when I login.

You a sore loser, gonna show you how I’m better just so I can say you lost it.

And don’t you try to run, I got my homies on speed dial, especially the Hydes.

Don’t make get the detector, you ain’t a G, we see thru’ the lies.

And besides, you high as fuck, so Imma shoot you right out the skies.

Oh, and besides, Alfred and Octavius knew what they were in, that’s why they died.

Chorus: (2:16)

Yeah, you a bitch and a sore loser, I know you takin’ the L too hard.

You’re cryin’ ‘bout the smallest shit, I know the eight Tyrones in yo bedroom right now goin’ too hard.

Pull up on this mothafucka and have him see the Lord, bullets flyin’ from the blue car.

I heard they didn’t take the ‘roids and PEDs, damn, they just screwed themselves hard.

Yeah, you a bitch and a sore loser, I know you takin’ the L too hard.

You’re cryin’ ‘bout the smallest shit, I know the eight Tyrones in yo bedroom right now goin’ too hard.

Pull up on this mothafucka and have him see the Lord, bullets flyin’ from the blue car.

I heard they didn’t take the ‘roids and PEDs, damn, they just screwed themselves hard.

Outro: (2:42)

Yeah, Back-Then Recordz, motherfuckers, ay Brits, you better watch your shit.