V/¢TØR¥

Like, “In you wit’ it, like you pics. Untroubled, love someone tonight.” end of quote.

Unjustified the ice I got, bring it to court ‘n’ ball wit’ it, hung up the device ‘n’ telephoned it.

Pushin’ one-hundred types of snow, like some eskimo shit, dribbled too much on call,

unplugged, said ‘it’s off,’ that snowballed until igloos was shot up, niggas passed, T-T-Y-L in the afterlife.

Heartrending atomic bombs I drop, it’s like a communal marriage and divorce, financial.

Concept ‘tism, rhythm’s solid rocks through be-bop, findin’ you tonight, make ‘em my bitch.

“Don’t worry, she just a diva,” the top is a laughing stock, yet I’m amused by the shit they got.

Processing this is katholikos, the shops dwelling upon hip-hop, disheartened by the world setting apart, nah.

Guys clowned, I shield myself like Buick, the very motion, I’m like Continental.

Red lights, red flags, wearin’ crosses on my Chevy.

Get ready, get ready, get ready, get ready.

 

 

World Cup, no L’s, ‘cause I don’t take ‘em,

we word buffs, from nowhere to paychecks, the word ‘cup’ is perverted, spell it out, cuffed.

Turn up, we went from protests, riots, to mayhem; the same shit that don’t make sense.

Make cents, decades of raisin’ hell has been resonatin’ within this very game.

Life is a checkmate, check your mates and make real sure that all these guys is checked, mate.

Check it, mate; visions of marriage weddings, halos sellin’ off ‘n’ peltin’ ideas,

friendships plateau and die, the fairest futures for the festive.

Welcome, refugees and blessings, get to be feeling low with me.

Here below, deputies’ death duties are to re-explode, ‘ere in the freezin’ cold,

the very breathing hole that we call home, of Al Capones ‘n’ jokes, smokes toked ‘n’ G.O.A.T.s, woah.

Volkswagen, vultures watching vicious,

wicked patterns, veto all the wishes, ‘n’ vape up out of the wacker.

Old-fashioned, mythologic algorithms of bars bolt action.

Bangin’ shots, both-handed philosophics, average runs and bastards madder,

face’s crimson, bitches have no talent, I’m off gin and tonic, have permission,

call me skill-a-holic, low-angle shots with screams on closed captions, who with ‘em?

These is old fractions, wizen-hearted, misanthropic visions, anarchism comradery,

say ‘hi’ to my grandmother, when I make it there, my mannerisms won’t be perceived,

not as traditional logic, position targets for me to lock in and hurt it,

heart the message ‘n’ never respond it, I got problems, let me loose and I’ll restart my last record so much that I’ll retard it.

Non-sensical, considerin’ I’m cosmic constant, movie star of an artist,

nontechnical saitama, the very beauty spot.

Heartrending atomic bombs I drop, it’s like a communal marriage and divorce, financial.

Concept ‘tism, rhythm’s solid rocks through be-bop, findin’ you tonight, make ‘em my bitch.

“Don’t worry, she just a diva,” the top is a laughing stock, yet I’m amused by the shit they got.

Processing this is katholikos, the shops dwelling upon hip-hop, disheartened by the world setting apart, nah.

 

 

Volkswagen, vultures watching vicious,

wicked patterns, veto all the wishes, ‘n’ vape up out of the wacker.

Old-fashioned, mythologic algorithms of bars bolt action.

Bangin’ shots, both-handed philosophics, average runs and bastards madder,

face’s crimson, bitches have no talent, I’m off gin and tonic-

Volkswagen, vultures watching vicious,

wicked patterns, veto all the wishes, ‘n’ vape up out of the wacker.

Old-fashioned, mythologic algorithms of bars bolt action.

Bangin’ shots, both-handed philosophics, average runs and bastards madder,

face’s crimson, bitches have no talent, I’m off gin and tonic-

 

 

This mainstream music to mixtapes, you’re the afterview

of what was greatly enraged, killed, go back to the factor group,

you break free from those who dictate, actin’ as you’re shatterproof,

maybe explains your afternoon, ‘I’m so great.’ okay, but now I’m back at you.

Lazy rhymes escape the public’s view,

the shady exclaims ensure no safety, you soundin’ like you need grammar school.

Hasty big game, with faith, take heed, let the matter bloom.

 

 

Dick fat, big shit, on some el legato

Ella got hoes, man bitch on som’ wack, where the dogs at?

Is that your bitch, or, is that a scandal?

It’s like you traffic animals, that’s Porsche horse in a carnival.

Guys clowned, I shield myself like Buick, the very motion, I’m like Continental.

Red lights, red flags, wearin’ crosses on my Chevy.

I cleared the plate of rappers, called it beatin’ bulls, this, for my Lamborghini’s faster.

Heavy, muscle cars elegant, like Ferrari ‘n’ Mercedes, I been paradin’,

I ain’t hoppin’ in yo’ Jeep, I’mma fade this, ain’t Honda, it’s Mitsubishi I’m playin’,

Toyota, I been givin’ energy, like Tesla, rest a, nigga, best dressed, centuries, better,

listen, to me, please, I’m meta, Nissan, BM’, the Volkswagen, vultures watching vicious,

wicked patterns, veto all the wishes, ‘n’ vape up out of the wacker.

‘n’ out of the latter, I lap these dudes, lát ‘er, Lexus, KIA, Fiat, Subaru, ‘n’ Mazda,

Jaguar, Chrysler, dope up Cadillacs, Lincolns, and up

the Bugattis, mobbing studios, following fools like yo, I can’t, get off my dick, bro.

Like, “In you wit’ it, like you pics. Untroubled, love someone tonight.” end of quote.

Unjustified the ice I got, bring it to court ‘n’ ball wit’ it, hung up the device ‘n’ telephoned it.

Pushin’ one-hundred types of snow, like some eskimo shit, dribbled too much on call,

unplugged, said ‘it’s off,’ that snowballed until igloos was shot up, niggas passed, T-T-Y-L in the afterlife.

Cut a bitch off, won taking off,

drums, flaming torch, hugs lay before

lust mating calls just making soft,

pups breaking off, drunk training course,

Trump’s latest-born, won sailing launch.

Dead, they dead, then off wit’ they head,

I come for your Benz, you pay for my rent, ya’ dead, ya’ heard what I said: dead.

 

 

This mainstream music to mixtapes, you’re the afterview

of what was greatly enraged, killed, go back to the factor group,

lazy rhymes escape the public’s view,

the shady exclaims ensure no safety, you soundin’ like you need grammar school.

Hasty big game, with faith, take heed, let the matter bloom.

 

 

Volkswagen, vultures watching vicious,

Old-fashioned, mythologic algorithms of bars bolt action.

face’s crimson, bitches have no talent, I’m off gin and tonic-

wicked patterns, veto all the wishes, ‘n’ vape up out of the wacker.

Bangin’ shots, both-handed philosophics, average runs and bastards madder, dead.