lirik lagu upchurch - dooin’ rappin
[intro]
anybody wanna do rappin’?
i’ll do f~ckin’ rappin’
[verse]
they all dissin’ me why? ‘cause i’m the golden boy
these records too d~mn shiny so go put your “son” glasses on
this old mother f~cker was rapping ‘fore i was born
and you still ain’t beatin’ nothin except skeleton of a dead horse
if i’m a b~tch i’m snow white and done stomped out like seven dwarfs
i got them blue genes baby, run the village like i’m papa smurf
scary ass cracking, you scared to go first
‘cause it takes your ass four years to write a twelve bar verse
i give a twelve bar curse
tell rypta get the keys and start the twelve valve he~rs~
i’ma alpha going mega, now that ego hurt
and lemme ask this first
why adam the only superstar who never headlinin’ his own concerts?
his life shifted in reverse, that statement is a last and first
he said i’m going to get the bag then went and picked up his purse
textin’ his boyfriends on the ‘tele’
hardest line, you called me ‘tubbie’
so addicted to the phones install a screen right on his stomach
industry under his shirt he tryna hide it from the public
now he doin’ propaganda ‘cause my fan base is cultic
too authentic to replicate it, got his play~doh tryna sculpt it
his visions h0m~ motives that involve me being cupid or culprit
i’d never waste an arrow only big game i’m huntin’
and i done made it crystal clear the words i speak are carbocundom
y’all shoot bullets, i throw thunder, on a pulprit, preach from thunder
i stay grounded like the roots from a down south mother f~cker
marge skip the wifi bill and send his ass down to hustler
buy a ball gag for his ass so he quits talkin’ like a buster
i’m the rain main on a cloudy day he still rockin’ them ray bans
can’t even look himself in the mirror to believe the sh~t his own brain says
i knew you wasn’t a rapper the first time that i shook your tiny hand
‘cause you named your son one syllable away from the term “g~y man”
i feel like eminem and nick cannon still tryna find the cadence
the~man gonna buy you a dictionary like dang dad
i’ma fire flame, fire, fire flame spitta
my range, mind rage career ended
i writ page right way in ten minutes
you dug grave too shallow to die in it
i told y’all leave me, leave me lone, but y’all kept blowin’ up my phone
now your obituary typed on g~nius lyrics.com
i ain’t even listened to your i’m jealous of upchurch song
and that’s proof you ain’t improvising, i’m physically walkin’ improv
my pen game is tougher than a nylon slip knot
only way you rock and roll is when i make you kick rocks
you a case study for social media side effects
at this point your heroine is cyber net
done recluse hisself inside a web even more than a spider is
hosier was right you are eve and ya hoe ass be sleeping inside a cider mill
thinkin’ that you poppin’ off but i disassembled your pistols firing pen
he lookin’ down the barrel like “what the f~ck is wrong with this sh~t?”
this mother f~cker’s got no common sense
got a hot wife at home takin’ care of kids
while he run around takin’ some instagram pics
with jenny lemons at a airbnb he rented from some hipster chick
that had a really cool garden fence
i’m just, i’m just doin’ agriculturin’
only thing you’re good at is aggravating the culture, b~tch
yeah, you in the lane but only when you on some vulture sh~t
you’re mad that i got molten spit
i mold the pen, you growin’ mold, hate and hopelessness
only thing your kid is gonna learn when old enough to comprehend
is dad was a yankee doodle who barely even used a pen
i’m chillin’ in a rooster pen, i think this dude a layin’ hen
you ain’t a “used to be” or a “has to been”
you non existantly a “used to been”
until i let you in
i’m evicting you and all your friends
one by one if i gotta sl!ck
get used to swervin’ and back it up like that ol’ girl twerkin’ (ha, ha, ha)
back it up like that ol’ girl twerkin’
i’ma back it up like that ol’ girl twerkin’
i’m gonna back it up like that ol’ girl twerkin’
[outro]
who the f~ck say that bro?
a guy who swings for the wrong team that’s for d~mn sure, ha ha
church, church, church
talkin’ to the booth mother f~ckers
i wrote that when i was eatin’ eggs b~tch
waaaa
dooin’ rappin’
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