LETRA
Usa A− / A+ para ajustar el tamañoKyrie & Luka (Feat. 2 Chainz)
A. T. L. , what's up, shawty?N. Y. C. , yo-yo-yo, kidD-Town, what up doe?Toni!Standin' on the speaker, tall as Burj KhalifaPowder on the plate'll turn your girl into EurekaRemember, if I don't see it, then I don't believe yaI done done some pretty dumb things on the tequilaBirthday in Vegas, layin' with my weezyAsked about her friends, she like, "Boy, I don't believe ya"I'm just tryna live and they turned it to evilMy partner is a Crip, the only thing he eat is seafoodSchool of hard knocks, I can fuck around and teach you (Uh)License to kill and I just got 'em renewed (Uh)Spoke to Def Jam and they talkin' 'bout a renoteSpoke to Ghazi and he can pay me in crypto (Yeah)Bored Ape Yacht Club, yeah, I'm Ricky SteamboatAnd you know my vibe, I'm mixin' mine with the pinotI say scratch that, gone and bring it back like PreemoI say scratch that, gone and bring it back like PreemoYou know my set, I'm throwin' dollar signsI lick her neck and turn the body to a water slideI'm in the bottom of my bag like some hot friesToni, Toni, Toni, Toni, Toni, that my top five, shitNow watch me swag on this beatEnough to make Rakim proud of meYou got my math and your bitch ass post somethin' negativeYou coulda called meI'm from the dark side, but the whip lightskinI do what I wanna do like white menI hit you in the fuckin' head with the mic standI fuck my girl in the daytime on a nightstandYou ain't know that, did ya?Real recognize real and you don't look familiarI'm from Riverdale Road, we ain't got no riverGot the pole concealed behind the partition, listenA trap nigga, I perform at bar mitzvahA trap nigga, I perform at the CrystalsI ain't gon' fight, but I still tote pistolsAin't gon' kill ya, all I got to do is whistleDamn, I think my whistle off (Off)They've been plagiarisin', they've been stealin' sauce(Sauce)Soon as I see 'em, I'ma pick 'em offI got a beard, but I must ask Ricky Ross (Huh?)God took his time with meKingpins wanna sign with meGunshots is truly AtlantaWhile things are goin' left like Julius RandleI got this shit lit, no need for a candleJust like Kyrie, I got this shit handled (Yeah)Just like Kyrie, I got this shit handled (Ayo)Walkin' around your party, like where the party at?(Yo, where the party at?)Yeah, Bacardí and 'Gnac could lead to a cardiacBut I'm drunk and I give a fuck, like how Cardi act (Cardi)I'm already back, I just had to run to my car to yackHeadache, an Aleve, I'ma need eight of 'em (Woah)For pete's sake, I've been steppin' on leaf rakes again (Ow)I keep wakin' up in the bed with complete strangers(The fuck are you?)And I eat prazosinget more chicks than Pete Davidson (Woah)Man, I can't help it, I'm me (No)I got the devil in me (Yup)Let me put it more delicately (Here)Fuck your feelings, I'm a felon, pussy, you're jealous of meProlly 'cause my cerebellum's a parabellum, pussyEven if I swear to celibacyI'd still be like a female that's hooking (Why?)Ain't shit you can do to stop me from sellin', pussy (Oh)Yeah, warped mind, your rhymesAre so fuckin' washed up, I call 'em shorelines (Woo)But as long as a nine-year-old's mind is washableI'ma search 'til I find the most awfullest line as possible(Yeah)Mind is off, all I need is a small little pint of vodkaTo be talked into tryna walk up insideof a Shriner's hospital and (*Gunfire*)They're tryna make Marshall the guy responsible (For what?)For little Joshua's giant arsenalLike I'm also the reason his. 9 is cockedand he brought his toolAnd decides to hide it inside of his locker'til the next time he's picked on at schoolBut you're out of your gourdif you're thinkin' that I ain't killin' this beatI'm not even forcin' myself to vomitbut if I had a fuckin' eating disorderOr anorexia, believe meI couldn't body this more for ya (Yeah)Man, I'm beyond childish (Bitch)When I'm on Valiums (Yeah) , just like mom downs 'emThey call it Munchausen (Why?)'Cause she hands me some (Here)Then says, "C'mon, chow, son (Chow, son)These are non-drowsin' (Uhh?)I mean non-drowsy (Right)but they'll help you calm down some"So, before I zonk out, I'm tryna make Rob proudI'm hopin' this song riles himI pop like nine thousand, I'm outtie, five-thousand (Oh)Hold up (One more thing)Spit syllables on the mic in the boothLike I'm at Drew's, even if I win or loseI'm in the news, even my interviews (Yeah)Get like five million views, I get accusedOf misogyny because I will massage any bitchjust like a masseuseMixin' NyQuil and booze, Heineken brewsHide 'em inside of my shoes, ah (Psych, what the fuck?)I'm just playin' (Fuckin' mumble rap)
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