[Intro]
W4ddles, you're a genius!
[Verse 1: GAWNE]
We are not the same, no, I feel you're-
'Bout as real as a silicone titty
Lil' bitch boy, I was twenty-two, poppin' pills
In the Hollywood hills, fuck a six figure deal
Nah, that ain't really something that I kill for
Rather meet a girl named Billie on the billboards
Swear to god, I'ma sell a milli' for the kitties that was wishin' I was still born
Momma said the world ain't pretty on Filmore
She grew up livin' in the gritty, on the windy west side
West-side of the city with them shitty-ass eyes
When you workin' two seven dollar, fifty cent jobs
Count the pennies at the bus-stop, must not
Know about the nine-to-five hustle
Why you claimin' that you grindin' everyday with your Instagram struggles?
So I'ma say it one time:
You ain't nothin' but a fuckin' stay-at-home mother, not a tough guy
[Pre-Chorus: GAWNE]
Seem like Everybody wanna know why the fuck I'm goated
No I don't even got a motive
All that I know is that when I on the mic I be like
Korver, 1997 bulls, no, never, no bulsh-
Michael Jordan when I hit that shot
My pistol pop out the holster
Bitch I'm a soldier
Ricky Bobby, we get lit at concerts like explosive
Jesus, Mama, Marry, Joseph
Father, Son, and Holy rolly rollin' the ghost
Left the party in a red Ferrari
Then in a Rover, bad bitches coming over
All my life I wanted real money
Where the pills are buried at doughboy
Heavyweight up on my shoulder
Nobody behold, the wait is over
Time to kill you like Covid
W4ddles, you're a genius!
[Verse 1: GAWNE]
We are not the same, no, I feel you're-
'Bout as real as a silicone titty
Lil' bitch boy, I was twenty-two, poppin' pills
In the Hollywood hills, fuck a six figure deal
Nah, that ain't really something that I kill for
Rather meet a girl named Billie on the billboards
Swear to god, I'ma sell a milli' for the kitties that was wishin' I was still born
Momma said the world ain't pretty on Filmore
She grew up livin' in the gritty, on the windy west side
West-side of the city with them shitty-ass eyes
When you workin' two seven dollar, fifty cent jobs
Count the pennies at the bus-stop, must not
Know about the nine-to-five hustle
Why you claimin' that you grindin' everyday with your Instagram struggles?
So I'ma say it one time:
You ain't nothin' but a fuckin' stay-at-home mother, not a tough guy
[Pre-Chorus: GAWNE]
Seem like Everybody wanna know why the fuck I'm goated
No I don't even got a motive
All that I know is that when I on the mic I be like
Korver, 1997 bulls, no, never, no bulsh-
Michael Jordan when I hit that shot
My pistol pop out the holster
Bitch I'm a soldier
Ricky Bobby, we get lit at concerts like explosive
Jesus, Mama, Marry, Joseph
Father, Son, and Holy rolly rollin' the ghost
Left the party in a red Ferrari
Then in a Rover, bad bitches coming over
All my life I wanted real money
Where the pills are buried at doughboy
Heavyweight up on my shoulder
Nobody behold, the wait is over
Time to kill you like Covid
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