Letras
That's how she, that's how she do
Yeah, and they won, then what else?
Cheez!
If I get any more motherfuckin' help from the internet
Then I bet I'ma be on top of my game
Just like a twister match, shit is wack
Giving me advice over this and that
Here, just take my dog, truck, house
And come and write my raps
Save all that guidance for something worthwhile
Like tellin' Nick Cannon he should make his first child
Tellin' marathon runners to quit after the third mile
Telling lady GaGa she should wear diverse styles
Y'all some "Al Bundy's" on the couch grumpy
Talkin' bout "Honey, look at these talentless bums
It's all about money."
Uncle Rico's, Curry swag and Shack free throws
Running your pie hole 'til your eye swoll
Don Flaminco
Zero zone, plinko I got you all, thanks
Keep the barking down like Bassett hounds
With the small leg it's a mess in y'all heads
Like playing checkers all red
You ain't see field of dreams?
All your cornballs dead motherfucker
I've been looking for a reason today
I got a hundred motherfuckers always running their face
A bunch of armchair quarterbacks can't get in the game
How the fuck you gonna call plays
All the time?
When all you do is ride the pine
The next man saying, "Let's work"
Better have an equal to or greater than net worth
That or better put your fucking hand in your bitch purse
'Cause you want a verse?
We gonna need to get them chips first
Boy, this ain't no charity case
I hate to make it one and your parents can say
"Why you ain't playing, my son"?
But, we both know you gon' go to the plate
With your elbows down and your knees gonna shake
Do a little window shopping 'cause you're never going to swing
And excuses are the only stat you ever gonna make
Oh, no, you hold the shit out of a clipboard, though
Grab a Gatorade and sit with coach