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Usa A− / A+ para ajustar el tamañoFirst Person Shooter (Feat. J. Cole)
(Pew, pew-pew)First person shooter modeWe turnin' your song to a funeralTo them niggas that say they wan' off usyou better be talkin' 'bout workin' in cubiclesYeah, them boys had it locked, but I knew the codeLot of niggas debatin' my numeralNot the three, not the two, I'm the U-N-OYeahNumero U-N-OMe and Drizzy, this shit like the Super BowlMan, this shit damn near big as the—Big as the what? Big as the what?Big as the what?Big as the Super BowlBut the difference is it's just two guysplayin' shit that they did in the studioNiggas usually send they verses back to meand they be terrible, just like a two-year oldI love a dinner with some fine womenWhen they start debatin' about who the GOATI'm like: Go 'head, say it then, who the GOAT?Who the GOAT? Who the GOAT? Who the GOAT?Who you bitches really rootin' for?Like a kid that act bad from January to November, niggait's just you and ColeBig as the what? Big as the what?Big as the what? (Ayy)Big as the Super BowlNiggas so thirsty to put me in beefDissectin' my words and start lookin' too deepI look at the tweets and start suckin' my teethI'm lettin' it rock 'cause I love the mystiqueI still wanna get me a song with YBCan't trust everything that you saw on IGJust know if I diss you, I'd make sureyou know that I hit you likeI'm on your caller IDI'm namin' the album The Fall Off, it's pretty ironic'cause it ain't no fall off for meStill in this bitch gettin' biggerthey waitin' on the kid to come drop like a father to beLove when they argue the hardest MCIs it K-Dot? Is it Aubrey? Or me?We the big three like we started a leaguebut right now, I feel like Muhammed AliHuh, yeah, yeah, huh-huh, yeah, Muhammed AliThe one that they callwhen they shit ain't connectin' no morefeel like I got a job in ITRhymin' with me is the biggest mistakeThe Spider-Man meme is me lookin' at DrakeIt's like we recruited your homiesto beat demon deaconswe got 'em attending a wakeHate how the gang gotta wait for the boss, manthis shit like a prison escapeEverybody steppers, well fuck itthen everybody breakfastand I'm 'bout to clear up my plate (Huh, huh, huh)When I show up, it's motion picture blockbusterThe GOAT with the golden pen, the top toucherThe spot rusher, sprayed his whole shit up, the crop dusterNot Russia, but apply pressureTo your cranium, Cole's automatic when aimin' 'emWith The Boy in the status, a stadiumNiggaAyy, I'm 'bout to—, I'm bout to—I'm 'bout to—, yeahYeahI'm 'bout to click out on this shitI'm 'bout to click, woahI'm 'bout to click out on this shitI'm 'bout to click, woahI'm down to click down you hoesand make a crime sceneI click the trigger on the stick like a high beamMan, I was Bentley wheel whippin' when I was nineteenShe call my number, leave her hangin'she got dry-cleanedShe got a Android, her messages is lime greenI search one name, and end up seein' twenty tingsNadine, Christine, Justine, KathleenCharlene, Pauline, ClaudineMan, I pack 'em in this phone like some sardinesAnd they send me naked pictures, it's the small thingsYou niggas is still takin' pictures on a GulfstreamMy youngers richer than you rappersand they all streamI really hate that you been sellin' them some false dreamsMan, if your pub was up for sale, I buy the whole thingWill they ever give me flowers? Well, of course notThey don't wanna have that talk'cause it's a sore spotThey know The Boy the one they gotta boycottI told Jim and JammerI use a GRAMMY as a door stopGirl gave me some head because I need itAnd if I fuck with you, then after I might eat it, waitNiggas talkin' 'bout when this gon' be repeatedWhat the fuck bro? I'm one away from MichaelNigga, beat it, nigga, beat it, what?Beat it, what? Beat it, what? Beat it, what? Beat it, what?Beat it, what? Beat it, what? Beat it, what? Beat it, what?Beat it, what? Beat it, what? Beat it, what? Beat it, what?Don't even pay me back on none them favors, I don't need it
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