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scape/goat ( freestyle) - lyrical moron lyrics

testing testing one two three
i think its funny y’all tested every one but me
y’all can’t compare these n*ggas unto thee
i had fastest sellers outrunned turned from strong to weak
i had the outcome pay run to me
i had the album date drop from 3 months to weeks
even tho out of 20 songs 5 songs got leaked
they on my mountain at the bottom but they at their peak
twenty tracks two features one project
that’s enough work to get my family out the projects
if really my made money from thе process i would probably have ten cars in my pockеt, i treat this game like checkmarks don’t make progress you treat it like an object and turned it to a contest
a lifestyle where you don’t really got an option you either hustle hard or put your life up for auction
and i’m honestly just talking i’m really not a rapper just a brotha tryna preach
but still a young brotha who grew up in the streets
but i know some brothas never got to see the mother f*cking progres*hol up
sh*t done changed my whole mindset to violence
f*ck the whole k!ll them with the kindness honestly wish it was silent i probably find where his mind is and do realignment
when the timing is right i’m fly in and ride til the line of the toxics are gone and they dying i’m excited fire the nine at all eleven off the liars it’s the kid who cried art, not the one who cried wolf, that’s a different story one that’s already been told
i gotta fetish for music, and it runs through my skin, but it gotta be perfect or else it goes in the bin, when i throw it away the rest of y’all try to use it, i can see that you hate even tho i’m your influence
i hate n*ggas with egos, love n*ggas with feelings, all you n*ggas is ass i got enough sh*t deal with
don’t ask me for a feature, i’ll
prolly block you for that, i do this sh*t on my own i’ll prolly chop you in half
i engineer my own vocals if you know what i’m saying, i even made this beat here it’s the one that you playing
they said i had a ghost writer but i don’t even got freinds, i’d rather sip on some coffee making a track in my benz
i’d rather never blow up, then do a song with you bums, i’d rather walk to finish line while the yell hurry up, cause i don’t follow the rules, you f*ggots up in my complex, you think i’m taking it far but you taking it out context, i’ll take it further than bars, and i ain’t talk the drank, i’m talking walking the plank, im talking every ones place, i could’ve made your whole discography in 4 over nighters, you couldn’t fathom my lyricsm if you was my writer, cause you could never be me, and that’s the way imma break it, i see red like chili somebody get me a blanket, i use to wanna be a thug til i got into fashion, even tho i ain’t dressing, imma be in the jacket
come meet me in the back with a couple plates of my favorite, even though there’s no dressing, it’ll in the packet, now i’m full of y’all’s sh*t, you can bring me a napkin, i ain’t eating ya food, you service been really rude, ya service ruined my date, you really f*cked up my mood, but i’m married to the game, it ain’t nothing i can do, i might just get a divorce, nah i’d lose all my sh*t, i been losing my sh*t, take a cruise on my ship that ian even pay for, it buzzes when i sit, i might just move to florida and put a ring on my chick, and ian wanna say sh*t cause y’all would stop me, but if i did with no warning gotta deal with paparazzi, the game is f*cked up, fame is tough love maybe on day i’ll break my way through, i can’t save you only i relate to this, but what do y’all know about the hate the lack of personal sp*ce boy get the f*ck out my face, i ain’t f*cking around, y’all could die here to day, i don’t know how to fight, so imma straight up just spray, and i hope that you prayed, cause you gone need it to live, i’m taking multiple shots, you gone need more than a stitch, you can call me a b*tch, but the gun doesn’t fail, but after you then it’s me, cause ian going to jail, ian going to prison, i don’t got no convictions, ian ever gon snitch, i’ll make em think i’m the victim, it ain’t worth it at the end of the day i got a life, and i’m working til the end of the day i’ll be alright, then i make left turn with no signal, record so hot it pops grease til it burns like old rizzo with no doubt i’m definitely k!lling the game i couldn’t name one n*gga my age with my range it’s me n*gga

- lyrical moron lyrics

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