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duke nukem - upchurch lyrics

[intro]
c’mon, man, roll outta bed, please. c’mon, diss me
say my name in a song
oh, god. give me a minute

[verse]
d-mn, son, you ballin’ now, two hours, a hundred views
bet your snapchat lit like lighters dropped off in the swimmin’ pool
your best delivery on a song had to be written’ about me
you copped the first line from the hottest rap song of last week
man, this fool in my hometown rappin’ ’bout a rhianna text
you musta fell and snapped your neck added trauma on top of your head
i promise i’m not even mad, it’s funny, you’re makin’ me laugh
i’m the cheatham coach of rap and i got ’em sprintin’ infinite laps
today church is poppin’, one diss song and he’s dead
last week you was emo, coverin’ hollywood undead
dmin’ me to share your video that sucked complete -ss
bunch of dudes in a garage steady scratchin’ their p-ssy cracks
lookin’ four foot nothin’, my manhood is in your weight cl-ss
that’s why you’re all mine like you’re mistakin’ it for a tall gl-ss
a cold tap, with a couple kool-aid packs
and i got you overheatin’, keepin’ up, i’m cadillacin’ it too fast
got dust on the bottle, closet rockin’ h-lla cl-ss
celebrate accomplishments with bottles, too many for a gl-ss
so many successful albums, “supernatural” got me trashed
but the only time you see a chart is when i screenshot a plaque
but you must be the drunk one ’cause you swung at me and missed
your diss track was goofy haymakers that never did connect
if you come swingin’ at me i’ma tell somebody grab their eight year old
metaphorically at walmart on the floor cryin’ for f-ckin’ toys
kickin’ and screamin’ ’cause you ain’t gettin’ your way
’cause you was hopin’ i would post this on social media yesterday
like, h-ll yeah, man, church is totally gonna diss back
got bars like a prison, bet his sh-t will be a sick track
let’s get followers from it, apologize and sit back
and try to rep cheatham even though we said it’s all trash
i put rappers in ditches, b-tch, get picked up by dudes in shackles
’cause you got tossed on highway 12 and you will not get recycled
and if your fruity -ss talkin’ sh-t you best be bringin’ a ripe one
you’re a warehouse opener, performin’ fall out boy recitals
with skinny jeans, lip rings, black hair and a bunch of eyeliner
and i’m stuntin’ co-op, it’s my only f-ckin’ designer, so
so fill me in, ladies, what’s the name of your band?
are you a solo act or did you guys just use one hand?
to write a track about me, secondly to circle-jerk
is this a diss track or a g-y guy’s love note?
you ridin’ my tail, i’m about to buy you coat
you got no trollin’ motor, you just floatin’ with no one
you’re stranded, and hateful, when i’m havin’ a volleyball
don’t get deep off in this castaway ’cause you half–ssed that song
hide your faces on my nuts, since you’re lonely and on my b-lls
so when you’re feelin’ unimportant scream my name like you lost
wilson!
but i still float, b-tch, and i’m private ryan and i don’t need to be saved
cl!ckin’ close on every terminal, ignitin’ fires of rage
and i rap so much i’m p–pin’ elves to go help i’m santa claus
that’s wrap with a w, i’m tryna guide you so you don’t get lost
i’m an alien, my dna is found up under permafrost
gonna need a hot shovel to bury me at every cost
all i got with some miss track with some p-ssies in clarksville
that think they got dope bars ’cause they know the word narcan
you musta come up with that peter, puffin’ your vape pen
with your g-y friends, packed in a spray painted nissan skate van
lookin’ like you livin’ out tony hawk’s american wasteland
god fell asleep on that controller when he created you, eh, stan?
y’all the type of motherf-ckers who can’t even bust a kick flip
but hit the mega-ramp and only eat mega complete sh-t
you don’t want me pressin’ b-ttons, i’m not a gamer
but you sound aggravated like you lost a game of halo
and that’s all that you do, so tear apart that headset
’cause you don’t wanna hear me spit sh-t lyrics way better than you can
b-tch, i’m the one who run it, it’s a job to clean my work boots
the only way you’re known is bein’ pro at playin’ skin flute
all i got is hard bars, won’t he go eat on my pencil tip
i’m makin’ tidal waves and all you’re makin’ is a ripple drip
and everybody rappin’ a bunch of neanderthalic sh-t
i might as well throw away my watch and watch all the hypocrites
it’s always lame trash, beat suckin’ donkey nuts
and comments how i’m posed to know you when you do not have a buzz
sayin’ that we done a show, you diss me for simple fun
is this dude a rap devil, or a soft-spoken poetic nun?
you’d better bring the heat when your messin’ with mr. muddy toes
you might get yanked in the c-mberland, smothered by undertows
yeah, i got a bad habit, i ain’t talkin’ underglow
i’m talkin’ murder with pens i got at staples a month ago
while i was there i decided to pick you up envelopes
so after you’re done confessin’ love, l!ck it slow and seal it closed
maybe you’ll paper cut your tongue and fix that mediocre flow
i tried to google you but all that came up was that you a ho
by the way my girl’s name ain’t briahna it’s brianna
you wouldn’t know that ’cause you play with condoms and bananas
and you say i haven’t made it but my radio is jammin’
and i’m still rollin’ stoned, limousine tint up on my windows
all bullsh-t aside, let’s get down to the nitty gritty
you’re mad ’cause i’m cold like the abbreviation of ashland city
b-tchin’ on facebook about a rapper in the same city
god d-mn, clout-chasin’ gettin’ h-lla h-lla petty
i feel like richard petty rap battlin’ h-llo kitty
you wanna say i suck, you want a dude to l!ck your man t-tty
so, next time you’re in the booth pretend your mic is my john hanc-ck
since i know you like puttin’ your lips on stuff that’s got my name on it
i’m not demonic, i just beyond it
shout out to tom hanks and thanks for helpin’ me run it, forrest

[outro]
no problem, upchurch. you want some of these chocolates?
i’m aight, forrest. i can run it myself
church, church, church, church

- upchurch lyrics

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