Citrus Winning Lu-Tang

Fell asleep for like 8 months, and I woke up and it's 2017
Money so damn long man
I'm winning just like I am Charlie Sheen
Back when I couldn't flow
Now I kinda can, eh
I'm like a broken vacuum cleaner man
My flow is kinda demeaning man
Man everything I do is fucking killing them
Motherfucker I don't even know why I got a ceiling fan
I got no ceilings fam, Wayne
Money long, cut it man, their swag is so lame
Who the fuck invited me?
No one really did
I just came to the party with no fucking friends
Then I left
My fault
Money long, cut it
I don't need a fucking goal
All my money long, who the fuck invited me?
I got to the party, then I leave
Money long, I am just like Steve Nash because I'm dropping dimes
Money long, man I do the crimes
I don't do no time
I've been killing these haters since like never
I don't really have many haters, I'm just changing like the weather, fuck it
I don't even got a backpack
I just go with the snapback
Looking like a motherfucking flapjack
Give a fuck if the rappers get the bap back
Give a fuck if I got the game on my Snapchat
Fuck, I got that Snapcash
Money long, cut it
Man you better take a backpack
Better take it back to the back on the top of the track
I react real fast when these rappers are trash
Fuck it up
Man I've always been a runner up
Never been first place in anything
Everything I fucking do is kinda trash, but it's all good
Money long, cut it down man
I don't really fuck with anyone if they don't fuck with Wu-Tang
I'm just kidding, we're all love
Money long, cut it down
I had to read a book about fighting crimes and writing rhymes
Back when I couldn't write, now my right is at the dime
Man I transform like Optimus Prime at the drop of the dime
Man these rappers, they just lies
Fuck it
Look, look
Strictly off the dome, everything I do is
Search me up on Google Chrome man
Lu-tang.bandcamp.com has like four views in the past four years
My money so damn fucking trash
I don't got a lot of cash
I do this shit in my fucking sleep man
R.I.P. to Johnny Cash
And R.I.P. to Prince, David Bowie, and Craig Sager
I killed the fucking game man
R.I.P. to Phife Dawg, I don't know how it's gonna be the same man
A Tribe Called Quest is the best
These rappers hungry like Budapest
Killed them haters man, put them in a chest
X marks the spot, but you are pretty trash (aye)
I don't even know why I'm doing this shit, man it's pretty terrible (aye)
I'm viciously killing them all, like Sid
I don't know variables (aye)
I don't even know why I pick up the mic, but I gotta keep going (aye)
Close to overflowing man, like a fucking dead fish
Tangy boi, I'm the bestest (aye)
Kill the game, murder it, you should invest in it