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saitama! - issbrokie lyrics

[intro]
ahem
yeah
buh!

[verse]
i’m too cold like the winter wit’ no jacket on
while it’s rainin’ cats ‘n dogs, i’m really just a padawan
who laughs along at all these other rappers that be rappin’ on
the same type beats i’m smokin’ on, lil b*tch, i have a bong
these bullets filled up to the tippy*top, i’m ’bout to snap and cough
you don’t got gas and all, i’m feelin’ higher than an astronaut
these rappers talkin’ ’bout the sh*t they done, they like to cap a lot
but really, i’m a g who got a polo on like capalot
but hol’ up (buh, buh, buh, buh, buh, buh)
sorry, i had to catch my breath quick
these bars are unlimited like olive garden with breadsticks
these rappers fed d*ck, they love to kiss, they love to d*ck ride
i’m the only rapper in this f*ckin’ scene ain’t need a cosign
from spider (agh!) and any the collectives y’all be hoein’ for
so grab up on my d*ck just like yo’ b*tch and start to choke it more
you slow ‘n poor if you ain’t bought a feature for a price
but i been gettin’ clout and i ain’t bought no features in my life
so f*ck yo’ standards
most of these rappers lookin’ like band nerds
man, shoutout homie lac, smokin’ woods like a camper
it’s karmamob, the gang, we sh*ttin’ on you like some pampers
my stomach feelin’ dirty, now my sh*t look like a hamper
i stay wit’ a blade like maka, you b*tches soundin’ like caca
i’m chillin’ out wit’ the mob and we cat*callin’ yo’ mama
we coolin’ outside the club and we passin’ around the zaza
i’m feelin’ zooted as f*ck while i’m chillin’, bumpin’ a [?]
shoutout gnarly boys, the hardest group of rappers next to karma
b*tch, i’m farmin’ bars and lookin’ at my scars from cuttin’ cartilage
my arts bizarre but it came from the heart, so f*ck the market, b*tch
i’m in the algorithm by myself, i got head started, b*tch
the hardest kid with bars that hit the smartest artist’s consciousness
she made ’em pack they bags and made ’em hit the road to train some harder, b*tch
i slaughter kids with harder bars than this and they be so mad
‘cus brokie makin’ more money than yo’ dad, it’s so sad
‘cus they all thinkin’ brokie music so bad
but i know they don’t know that
you need a f*ckin’ crane to lift my notepad
i’m so cracked that most of these rappers thinkin’ i’ve gone mad
‘cus everybody competin’ how much d*ck can they throat [?]
they all about the clout sh*t, all about comparisons
“does brokie sound like this guy, or this guy?”
i don’t care, you b*tch
‘cus brokie ain’t rely on someone else to help ’em make it, b*tch
y’all thinkin’ this ain’t genuine, but music been my therapist, b*tch
issbrokie

- issbrokie lyrics

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