lirik lagu mr. master - coinkydink
[prod. by mr. master]
[verse 1: mr. master]
2029 flow in 2019
no more gl-sses with eyeholes
where zeros might be
stretchin’ out the waist of some oversized jeans
while i’m stretchin’ out her waist if you know what i mean
3039 flow had amy like gleesh
fortune cookie list of thanks for my emmy night speech
finally started sellin’ my own line of white tees
for seven-hundred ninety-nine each. singin’
i might die if i hear one more canned laugh on my tv
like i can’t make a studio audience p-ss themselves
late night on nbc
and everybody ’round my spot wanna jock my st–z
so they rap like this and make beats like these
thinkin’ any other rapper that be soundin’ like me
would be on the same stage but that’s unlikely
lights please. roll, speed. bird’s pov
oh yes. no less than the god
dime piece. soft speak. so kilo kish, but she a cat for the doja
matamoney bloviate the bang, now i blow up
marathon run through so many bands ’til i throw up
withdraw my account so much, my -ssets done froze up
live and never die in neverland, never grow up
they all wanna go but
the boys all think that the girls all suck
and the girls i think that the boys wann’ f-ck
but the kettle’s called black and the bets’re called bluffs
and the third party’s like what
and shoutout all the rappers who eat with rhinestone teeth
they do not want me around
but all the kids that’s picked last in sports gon’ salute my shorts
until it’s torts all the way down
ooh baby, it’s a keg
axe o’ annie wilkes’ll turn a leg into a peg
and cheating isn’t cheating if it’s chegg. on peds
best that they could do was all yellows, all reds
close but no benson and hedge
oh my god. i’m a neutron with a coupon. no charge
had the tax man do a cat scan and he just found more bars
i can take a bird down santa monica
and take a sp-ce-x up to mars
now where the h-ll is my self-flying car?
somebody yellin’ fire in a crowded theater
i don’t know who it was but it was loud and clear
the girlies love me like dolce lattes
’cause i got more rhymes than gabor maté
bring the b-ss to your face. the party to your place
got the uno, the dos. now get a load of this tres
on record one time, just had to say:
there’d be no mr. master without mca
[outro: adam yauch]
two ninety eight oh one six five three sierra vista
it’s a party, i’ve seen the chicks
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