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pizza boy. - vomit on a bloody sweatshirt. lyrics
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[verse 1]
stuck on the fringe with a bowl of creamy chicken maruchan and a cold clear american in the fridge
b-m life
i got four fingers and a thumb; “wife” is what i call her
holler if you hear me
if you’re quiet, you a lie
like the devil, i dun’ fell from the sky
i ain’t built for this impact
i want my wings back and my sin scratched from my record
i’m too demanding to be rockin’ a f for effort
expelliarmus with the flow, boy
gold bars trick you into thinking i’m a solid gold soul
coy? – a whole ploy designed to trick thighs into letting that trojan in
i ain’t a poet, sh-t
i’m a dog, my features are gettin’ clearer
reverse animorphin’, no more courting, midnight approaching
the compulsion is critical
you’re smokin’, i’m ignoring the surgeon general
thirst level like a goat to that mineral
thinking purely seminal; pause for the literal
once i’m done with you, then i’m f-ckin’ uncle phil’n you
girl, f-ck out of here with all of that jazz
i just treat you how i treat myself: half-bad
the other half better; but lesser evil ain’t good
don’t i know it; well, why don’t i show it?
‘cause i’m too busy skippin’ practice, ‘cause i don’t preach
i ain’t say i was the answer; if you feel me, that’s a reach
listen to yourself; i’m a dummy and a leech, your honor
oskar kokoshka of rap
[verse 2]
yet and still, they’re all shallow; i’m barry white
i shouldn’t have to say it if i am, but you’re the scary type
so i know that all i gotta do is put some b-ss in my voice and you’ll believe
rolling in the deep like a pill, i’m addicted to the high of the thud when your brain hits the mud after a faithless leap
your answers don’t satisfy? i’ll dive from the brink
i’ma find it, i’ma see, third letter in the thing that i place ever-so-gently inside your lila
she say it’s too short, i’ma hit her with the “k.”
i could care less, she gon’ get an “o” eventually
folk know i’m an alien; “ayys” when they mention me
laughing my -ss off, i’m flirting with the beat
just the thought i might go deeper got it feeling like a creek
that wet flow, slow flow
b-tch, i’m a slowbro
that clam give me t–th, then i just might peak
make me have to chase it, i’ma rise to the occasion
treating every challenge like a fresh plate of bacon
n-body loves this as much as me
you hang from the nuts of me
you is exactly what it would suck to be
b-tch, please; your cloth ain’t cut from me
now go and wash the blood out that cheap sh-t
or hit me back on some rap beef sh-t
that elite sh-t
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