Anybody wanna do rappin'?
I'll do fuckin' rappin'

They all dissin' me, why? 'Cause I'm the golden boy
These records too damn shiny, so go put your son glasses on
This old motherfucker was rappin' 'fore I was born
And you still ain't beatin' nothin' except the skeleton of a dead horse
If I'm a bitch, I'm Snow White and done stomped out like seven dwarfs
I got them blue genes, baby, run the village like I'm Papa Smurf
Scary-ass cracker, you scared to go first
'Cause it takes your ass four years to write a twelve-bar verse

I give a twelve-bar curse
Tell Rypta get the keys and start the twelve-valve hearse
I'm an alpha goin' mega, now that ego hurt
And lemme ask this first
Why Adam the only superstar who never headlinin' his own concerts?
His life shifted in reverse, that statement is a last and first
He said, I'm goin' to get the bag, then went and picked him up a purse

Textin' his boyfriends on the tele
Hardest line? You called me Tubbie
So addicted to the phones, install a screen right on his stomach
Industry under his shirt, he tryna hide it from the public
Now he doin' propaganda 'cause my fan base is cultic

Too authentic to replicate it, got his Play-Doh tryna sculpt it
His visions homo motives that involve me bein' Cupid or culprit
I'd never waste an arrow, only big game I'm huntin'
And I done made it crystal clear, the words I speak are carbocundom

Y'all shoot bullets, I throw thunder, on a pulpit, preach from under
I stay grounded like the roots from a down-south motherfucker
Marge, skip the Wi-Fi bill and send his ass down to Hustler
Buy a ball gag for his ass so he quits talkin' like a buster

I'm the rain man. On a cloudy day, he still rockin' them Ray-Bans
Can't even look himself in the mirror to believe the shit his own brain says
I knew you wasn't the rapper the first time that I shook your tiny hand
'Cause you named your son one syllable away from the term gay man

I feel like Eminem and Nick Cannon still tryna find the cadence
Tae-man gonna buy you a dictionary like Dang, dad
I'm a fire-flame, fire, fire-flame spitta
My range, mind-rage career ender
I write page, right way in ten minutes
You dug grave, too shallow to die in it

I told y'all leave me, leave me 'lone, but y'all kept blowin' up my phone
Now your obituary typed on Genius lyrics.com
I ain't even listened to your I'm jealous of Upchurch song
And that's proof you ain't improvisin', I'm physically walkin' improv

My pen game is tougher than a nylon slip-knot
Only way you rock and roll is when I make you kick rocks
You a case study for social media side effects
At this point, your heroine is cyber net

Done reclused hisself inside a web even more than a spider is
Hosier was right: You are Eve, and ya hoe-ass be sleepin' inside a cider mill
Thinkin' that you poppin' off, but I disassembled your pistol's firin' pen
He lookin' down the barrel like What the fuck is wrong with this shit?

This motherfucker's got no common sense
Got a hot wife at home takin' care of kids
While he run around takin' some Instagram pics
With Jenny Lemons at an Airbnb he rented from some hipster chick
That had a really cool garden fence

I'm just, I'm just doin' agriculturin'
Only thing you're good at is aggravatin' the culture, bitch
Yeah, you in the lane, but only when you on some vulture shit
You're mad that I got molten spit

I mold the pen, you growin' mold, hate, and hopelessness
Only thing your kid gonna learn when old enough to comprehend
Is dad was a Yankee Doodle who barely even used a pen
I'm chillin' in a rooster pen, I think this dude a layin' hen

You ain't a used to be or a has to been
You non-existently a used to been
Until I let you in
I'm evictin' you and all your friends
One by one if I gotta slick

Get used to swervin' and back it up like that ol' girl twerkin' (ha, ha, ha)
Back it up like that ol' girl twerkin'
I'ma back it up like that ol' girl twerkin'
I'm gonna back it up like that ol' girl twerkin'

Who the fuck says that, bro?
A guy who swings for the wrong team, that's for damn sure, ha ha
Church, church, church
(The devil wears a size twelve shoe)
Talkin' to the booth, motherfuckers
I wrote that when I was eatin' eggs, bitch
Waa
Doin' rappin'

Canciones de Upchurch

Significados de las letras de canciones de Upchurch