intro - duke a.g. lyrics
ladies and gentleman of the jury
i stand here today in front of you
in my humblest of robes
yes, i’m humbled by those
those of the humblest abodes
the cardboard box by the road
housing that lost tortured soul
who lies two tours deep, lies the dude, floor asleep, while the new doors close
this is not your average mixtape, y’all not that it’s anything special or anything, i mean, like it is, but it’s just not your average mixtape, uhh, it’s been four years in the making, i’ve done written this tape over like three times already, thrown it out every godd-mn time until now, thrown out 30 plus tracks, i mean legit took the puns out of em, skinned them b-tches, and deleted them, you ain’t never gonna hear them, kept the wordplay, i mean that’s what this project is about, wordplay, the vast majority of this tape is going to be wordplay, just puns and sh-t, so uhh, if you ain’t f-ckin’ with it, you can f-ck off now, but uhh, without further ado, the sick sh-t he spews
i’m a-fat cat, knockin snapbacks off these aflacs
they steady duckin me, they buck and weave like gr-sshats
they steady b-mpin me, they b-mp and leave, like past cats
9 lives, fine wine, mos-gato, have that
oh d-mn, he done pitbulled it, he done p-ssed rap
in the left lane, rollin papers, gr-ss lap
veering left saying holy prayers, last lap
crashin into first place, nascar’in the nasdaq
spit so f-cking hard, i waterfall, and still splash back
sh-ts so f-ckin raw you ask the waiter for your cash back
capital one, i’m in ya wallet, hands down, half past-six, sh-t, it’s six forty five and we’re half m-ss
so let’s set sail, let’s get nailed, let’s p-ss gas
cuz meth-ain’t nothin to ya teeth compared to br-ss tax
this right here, this right hand’ll smack your -ss back, into next week, next year, past fast
ramadan is over, so’s the last laugh
i’m f-ckin having it, and i ain’t ashed hash
in other words i’m burned out and on a mad dash, for the finish line, i finish mine if it’s my last task
so take a half flask and pop it like a hatchback
i’m on my killer sh-t, ghost face, snapchat
i’m on my thriller sh-t, well, ghost face, that’s that
kill the mic, you ain’t jack-son, just half bad
been on the same two syllables for this last rap
yet these p-ss-es sleepin on him like a catnap
so phone a friend and let me know i’m spittin cash cab
and taking over all devices like black hat
im spittin pounds b-tch, thats fat, im spitting dope sh-t, knapsack, sh-t im so sick, zantac
yeah that’s it y’all, i wasn’t lying when i said this was mainly puns and sh-t, like thats really all i got
this tape is just 4 years of puns, like its so oversaturated with puns it almost doesn’t make sense, i think i did a good job of getting as close to that threshold as possible without tipping it, but if you ain’t f-cking with wordplay, you can get the f-ck off my tape, unplug yo god d-mn headphones if you ain’t gonna appreciate this sh-t, this took some godd-mn work, umm, that’s it, maybe we just ride the beat out, shout out to brizzy bailey, brizzy the kid, whatever you wanna call him, made this dope beat, he’s dope, known him since 9th grade he ain’t changed one bit, real sh-t, i respect that, i respect this beat too though, so we just gonna ride it, kick back and enjoy, see where it takes us
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