prod. Kenny Beats

lyrics

I stay with the strap just like I’m made of velcro.

I gave them my scraps, and now they’re throwing elbows.

I’m waving them off so they won’t tell me hello.

I make a play in the streets just like my name is Elmo.

I’m well known for my sauce like Raisin’ Canes.

When I’m on the track it’s magic: David Blaine.

Beat so dumb it got left back like Leighton Baines.

I stay the same in my favorite clothes, so I’d hate to change.

I’ve been cooking up like I’m Heisenberg. Say my name.

Married to the money. I control her (controller). Yeah, I’m playing games.

Threw my struggles out the window. I had to break the panes (pains).

Day to day. Steady on the grind. Then I skate away.

My old girl had more cake than a cakery.

She liked to match, so I got more bread than a bakery.

Then I got so rich that all the socialists hated me.

Iced my girl out. It’s a blizzard. Now she’s the Dairy Queen.

And I’m tired of the fakery.

People making up so much. They must be Maybelline.

Thumbing through all this paper like I’ve been stapling.

I’d hate to be an ableist, but y’all seem pretty lame to me.

On the offensive. Never give the ops a trigger warning.

Steady getting chicken like the colonel (kernel), but this isn’t corny.

I’ve been sipping on potion like it’s a wizard story.

I just made a clean sweep at a quidditch tourney.

Slide on the ops like it’s a playground,

but I don’t play ‘round.

When I up the beam, you better stay down,

or vacate town.

Flee (flea) the scene, leave the greyhound.

So much drip, I’ll make a lake drown.

All about my cheese, and I’m leaning like the tower of pizza.

Let’s get it popping like Mike Posner posted in Ibiza.

Get to balling, then I kick it like I’m playing FIFA.

Mona Lisa. Fine art coming through your speakers.

Couple thousand dollars on my wrist. I’m wearing silly bands.

Couple different watches on my wrist. A couple minute hands.

Might decide to pass them down and make them second hand.

I’m better than any of you critics tryna reprimand.

Collect the money, then get down like Zacchaeus.

I’m more sick than organs with diabetes.

Make them lose control like some parents with some bad kids

running away, screaming “Yay (Ye)!” Get back here!

I’m only playing for the bucks like I’m Giannas.

I’m eating beats. You other rappers are famished.

Royalty with the words. I’m Young Hamlet.

Catch me stepping in some Stan Smiths.

I’ve got more bars than a penitentiary.

I’m rocking gold stars. Yeah, my neck is glistening,

and this track is hotter than the Middle East.

In history, I’m the coldest rapper with the pen and ink.

Mastery of the English Language

13unty's debut EP. Entirely self-produced.