Album: Revival (2017)
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  • 2 Chainz!
    Yeah, yeah

    Take 'em to church, I'm talkin' the tabernacle
    It's the return of the body snatcher
    Walk in the spot, make my woman smack ya (whoo!)
    In a fruit fight, I aim at your Adam's apple
    Pull up in the candy car, eatin' a candy bar
    And my girl eatin' a candy apple
    Yeah, I line their ass up, I aim at their Cruiser
    All of these stones on my neck, uh
    They must have looked at Medusa
    Pockets Rasputia of course
    I drove some rims to court
    I fucked some twins before
    I had a Benz before, this is the sin report
    This is the murder, murder, pass the burner, Em
    Your money shorter than an acronym
    Big body when I'm backin' in
    Ladi-dadi, got a bunch of bodies
    Niggas fakin', niggas human traffickin' (whoo!)
    I'm on the Ac' again, uh
    This ain't a accident, uh
    King like Ak-Ron
    I run the trap again, you on the treadmill (treadmill)
    Never, Neverland, shit came with a Ferris wheel (goddamn!)
    Ferris day off, baby, AR in the same car
    Most of y'all my sons, aww, look at little JR
    F12 same color Kate Moss
    Uh, I'm talkin' wrist in the pot
    I'm talkin' this and you not
    I'm talkin' bricks and you not
    I'm talkin' straight up and down, nigga, like 6 o'clock
    This is the equinox, this what the people want
    Somebody at the door, I heard the speaker knock, uh

    I'm at your throat like Chloraseptic, 'septic
    And you got strep, I'm too complex with, 'plex with
    This shit I wrote is on some next shit, next shit
    I'm at your throat, I'm feelin' reckless, reckless, yeah

    Do me a favor, don't do me no favors
    These bitches got flavors
    They all wanna smoke but ain't doin' no labor
    But they shoppin' at Raleys, they stingin' like tasers
    Act Hollywood like they play for the Lakers
    They fly on the latest
    Crocs, alligators, say hi to my haters
    Pardon my neighbor
    We eatin' that chicken, lobster, potatoes
    You must be sniffin' that yayo
    If you don't think I'm that nigga
    Swagger on ten since a day old
    It's a-okay though, whippin' up whip like it's mayo
    Every track is a K.O., technical K.O.
    Go off your head like I'm Ayo
    Out of this world, talkin' NATO
    It's 'cause of jail, don't be an A-hole
    'Cause I got shooters that shoot when I say so (lay low!)
    Wanna be in my shoes, you ain't paid no dues
    Real nigga, you ain't break no rules (hell yeah!)
    High school, niggas ate yo' food
    Might dumb it down a little, but I ain't no fool (hell yeah!)
    Niggas hate every day, B (yeah)
    Shit is O.C. lately (yeah)
    Gotta break 'em off with these Dre beats (yeah)
    Or I might go crazy (hell yeah!)
    These niggas too goddamn lazy (too lazy)
    Don't ever, ever, ever try to play me (to play me)
    Lil' shawty know a nigga from BK (BK)
    But I'm tryna come up like JAY-Z (like JAY-Z)
    Nothin' but love from my heart (love from my heart)
    I feel entitled to titles (to titles)
    Fuck it, man, I want the title (I want the title)
    Submission, they goin' all viral

    I'm at your throat like Chloraseptic, 'septic
    And you got strep, I'm too complex with, 'plex with
    This shit I wrote is on some next shit, next shit
    I'm at your throat, I'm feelin' reckless, reckless, yeah

    Bin Laden with a pen, bodyin' again
    I begin slaughterin' your men, prolly shoulda been
    Ali or the Svengali embodiment of sin
    Like a Saudi and the Taliban plotting an event
    In the lobby of the Intercontinental with an obvious intent
    And I would not even relent
    Up on a little like Osama with a bomb under the bin
    And down the middle of the Pentagon
    And hit a kindergartener with a rental (stop!)
    Back and forth, back and forth
    Like Jack Kevorkian's ass to court
    "Rap mature! Why can't you be like Macklemore?" (huh?)
    "Why you always gotta smack a whore?" (huh?)
    It's likely the psychiatric ward's a last resort (huh?)
    Something's gotta give, that's for sure
    Yet you keep comin' back for more
    Not as raw as I was, "'Walk On Water' sucks"
    Bitch, suck my dick!
    Y'all saw the tracklist and had a fit 'fore you heard it
    So you formed your verdict
    While you sat with your arms crossed
    Did your little reaction videos and talked over songs (chill!)
    Nah dog, y'all sayin' I lost it?
    Your fuckin' marbles are gone (wait, Em!)
    But nowadays, every flow, every cadence sound the same (skrrt)
    Brain's a powder keg, I draw inspiration outta hate
    Real pain in the paper, I don't trace
    But if I look strange and outta place
    It's 'cause I'm an alien, that's why I write 'til the page is outta space
    Yeah, from 7 Mile in Novara
    To "How can I be down?", all of us tryna pile in the car (yeah!)
    We shot for the stars (yeah!)
    'Cause we only got so much time in this world (yeah!)
    So rewind it to your high school dance to the night before
    If you think you're promised tomorrow (yeah!)
    Now I'm 'bout to fool again
    This tune is sick, it's luminous, the moon is lit
    A freakin' lunatic, a human computer chip
    And I'm soon to stick a broom in the uterus of your Hooters chick
    If I was you, I wouldn't do nothin' stupid due to the mood I'm in
    I'm losin' it, you get chewed like a Junior Mint
    Show me who to rip, it's time for you to get screwed
    Empty the lubricant and put super glue in it (woo!)
    How many fuckin' rappers did I go through?
    Dispel doubt, but you won't admit I smoked
    And you was spellbound, hellbound in my snowsuit
    But am I s'posed to sound like everything else out?
    'Cause I don't get compared to it, only myself now
    And I can see the fair-weather fans and sales down
    But the only way I care is if I let myself down
    But what the fuck have I woke to?
    Time to eat the vocals and shit out Pro Tools
    I know you still want me to ill out, don't you?
    Hopin' the old Slim's gonna spill out, open
    Fire on your whole camp with this spit, I roast you
    So chill out, no, you
    Hoes couldn't roast me with the shit I wrote you
    Then I took a stand, went at Tan-Face
    And practically cut my motherfuckin' fan base in half and still outsold you
    You just called my shit trash?
    Thank God, I rap better when the odds are stacked
    "Revival's wack, I don't like the 'Zombie' track
    And when he's talkin' that garbage psychotic crap
    Where's your content at?
    What's with all the conscious rap?
    P!nk, Beyoncé this and Kehlani that" (yeah!)
    I just add it to the fuel in my rocket pack
    'Til I'm ready to respond, then I'ma launch it at 'em
    Idiotic from the fuckin' embryonic sac
    To the body bag, I'll be back
    And when I am, I'll be at your fuckin' throat like

    Like Chloraseptic Writer/s: Denaun Porter, Erick Sermon, Kashaun Rutling, Marshall Mathers, Parrish Smith, Tauheed Epps
    Publisher: RESERVOIR MEDIA MANAGEMENT INC, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Universal Music Publishing Group
    Lyrics licensed and provided by LyricFind


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