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slow down (ishowspeed disstrack) - packgod lyrics

[intro: ray charles, packgod]
hit the road jack, and dont’cha come back
no more, no more, no more, no more
hit the road jack (come on), and dont’cha come back (come on)
no more
yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah

[verse 1]
now i’m finna*gonna get up on this motherf*ckin’ crack*head streamer tryna scam his fans
b*tch call himself ishowspeed, stop tryna show us yo underpants
boy really got famous for barking at people and doing a fortnite dance
this dude let a crypto scam spread his assh0l* open for a hundred grand
d*mn sellout
you failin’ to handle the disses i sh*ll out
boy tried to mic up with me in his v.c. till he started crying and got ran the h*ll out
ain’t n0body give a f*ck about, sui
gta stripper, you shakin’ yo’ booty
your facetimes with adin be gettin’ mad fruity
your music is more poorly written than luffy
b*tch, why you screamin’? it got yo’ fans creamin’
this man lookin’ like he’s possessed by a demon
you dated a man and could not even keep him
yo’ dad came on stream and then gave you a beatin’
wanna f*ck on ronaldo but can’t even meet him
can’t ever see him, your hopes getting blurry
barkin’ at sh*t, you a closeted furry
nappy ass hair, man, them dreads lookin’ dirty
bro lost the d*mn private jet to a high five
that is the saddest sh*t i’ve seen in my life
swear this b*tch think he the wolf off of twilight
playin’ with adin’s b*lls, nfl highlights
[bridge]
yeah, lil’ b*tch, now i’m switchin’ the beat up
look like pre*k when yo’ fans have a meetup (yeah)
get to the blazin’, this sh*t’s finna heat up (yeah)
how yo’ name speed but you strugglin’ to keep up?
know what, f*ck this sh*t, adin ross, now i’m on yo’ head
still owe me 3k from that talent show, b*tch

[verse 3]
i am not done with you
f*ck yo’ lil’ chat, you ain’t gettin no w’s
clout chasin’ friends, yeah, that’s why they all f*ck with you
sh*t’s gettin’ old man, we’ve all seen enough of you
all these girls on yo’ stream but not one gettin’ under you
it’s time you get checked, i ain’t talkin’ no elon
andrew tate’s d*ck only place that you be on
if bronny ain’t came to yo’ motherf*ckin’ life we all know that the sidewalk is where you would sleep on
flowin’ semi*automatic, put you in a packet
you a gamblin’ addict, fat, you look asthmatic
hoppin’ d*ck like a rabbit, this sh*t f*ckin’ tragic
you a little maggot, shut up, b*tch
yeah, like, how you 22 but lookin’ 38?
you scam yo’ fans, you makin’ millies off of stake
you sold yo’ soul to be they little f*ckin’ puppet
get a shirt and cover up your f*ckin’ gullet
yeah, beat him like a beatbox, b*tch i need a detox
adin got the top g gettin’ in his g*spot
runnin’ like some rebooks, gettin’ f*cked by zias
losin’ track of all the rappers that you’ve tried to beat off
[outro]
b*tch, b*tch, yeah, better get me my 3k
told him to run that sh*t back like a relay
entire comedic appeal is to be g*y
lately yo’ vids bombin’ harder than d*day
yo’ brain cells be harder to locate than ceeday
b*tch you is more of a sellout than ea
yo’ sister be playin’ with b*lls, call her, “d wade”
d*mn, she nasty
packgod, motherf*cker can’t catch me
you rollin’ on the d*ck, rick astley
spit fire but these b*tches can’t match me

- packgod lyrics

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