name to a face - a1th lyrics
[verse 1: a1th]
you said i’m broke but i went and got a bag, gunn, hop off my tip (uh*huh)
you could feature tom macdonald, it’d be better than your last one
ll bool gunn, getting turned off ‘fore it start cause
i’m making better throwaways before i got my art done (huh?)
ho, they are not us (yeah, uh)
all your sh*t is is dead on arrival, you ain’t showing off no paystub (what?)
can’t go to target ’cause i’m checking out and getting eyed by (why?)
twenty people tryna place the place they seen my face from
i made a name but, still, i ain’t done (uh*huh)
i been at it for a couple years, ain’t stopping ’til the top is where they place us (ayy)
i’m shooting for the top, and it was like i asked you
what’s your name and what you do ’cause i just gave your ass a free cut (uh*huh)
[interlude: a1th & domenico]
uh, that’s a band, boy
i’m coming through
uh, look (doot*doot*doot*doot*doot*doot*doot*doot*doot)
[verse 2: domenico & keno kaizo]
they all vultures like ye and ty with the plagiarism
but you know i’m still catchin’ these bags, i let the paper glisten
they wanna see public files, you gotta pay for tuition
sign up to my online course to become a great musician
tappin’ into every pocket like i’m lookin’ for some change
y’all are cooked, all your fast food jobs and greasy f*ckin’ stains
while my pockets gettin’ fatter off some type beats
money talks is tellin’ me i should ignore your hype tweets
we don’t care about it like your one viewer
try to speak in our combos, yeah, you’re an intruder
they shakin’ sendin’ me demos like i’m some big producer
you just obsessin’ over discord like you’re megan kruger
us bein’ up is not enough, i need to see my haters down
’til you’re scrollin’ on your feed and you can only hear my sound
follow back on all socials, makin’ sure they stick around (type sh*t, type sh*t, bruh)
just so i can unfollow ’em the day we make it out (you know what i mean? ayy, uh!)
[verse 3: keno kaizo]
i’on’ even know y’all, why y’all keep talking to me (what?)
pockets dead presidents, lotteries monopolies (what?)
way i k!ll a mic, they really thought this was a robbery (get ’em)
oh my god, shout*out jb ’cause i’m sorry (hahaha)
pockets fat as gunna ‘fore the rico act (yeah)
i make them bring they motherf*ckin’ ego back (nice)
three pairs of jays, send me checks and i’ma veto that (nah)
“boy, i don’t miss”, yeah, my brotha, you are free throw shaq, yeah
send that back (send it)
ran the game through white lines, yeah, the code wasn’t crack (it wasn’t)
uhh… and i’m still richer than yo’ dad (he poor!)
spraying acid to these basic b*tches so i keep the ph flat (get it?)
[verse 4: solomon rennie]
cut the hypothetics (cut it)
start the audit, end the what*ifs, cut the diabetics (yeah)
see you’re caseoh and your plate’s reflecting all your records (uh, uh, uh, uh)
losers stuffing up the hall of fame (grrrt)
i’m rushing to the call for aid, i’m weighing up the filler (yeah, yeah, uh, yeah, yeah)
brother, i’m the vetter, checked off, i’m chekhov (bow! chekhov)
i spent four years decked up on desk jobs (yeah, yeah)
but now i’m on call, post credit to a1th’s tape
they’re gonna need a saga for a chance to erase me, b*tch (‘rase)
huh, i dock your stock, i’m the godfather
all the benefactors are turning into your loss betters
wall street betting on your fall, debt to sol, man, it’s
really not my call but the buzzer begs my palm, slam it ([?]! huh, huh, huh)
quoting me, boy, your twitter fingers callused
think it’s magic that you send it from the pass pile
barely even tactile, entering my plain
we not even on the pilot and your budget’s getting slashed, wow!
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