FTA Freestyle

[Verse 1] Never lost a fight but lost my head a couple times I should've let 'em fuck me up to knock some sense into my mind All the women that I've fucked, with no rubber on the bus If they're ever up the duffs, some are definitely mine Wait, I'm just kiddin', I just writtin', I'm just spittin' In your girls mouth, got the puss hissin', I love kittens I was in town with my fun stick on a fuck mission Then I woke up in my mums crib with my cum drippin' (Ha, haha) I'm paranoid so get prepared to grab me Looked in the mirror then punched a cunt for starin' at me I don't bust, I just lеave with my nut 'Cause I scream whеn I fuck, and now the groupies they're all scared to trap me Today I woke up, I ain't mentally there Like, I might go and shave the chest off my hair I know some thoughts that we got ain't meant to be shared But I'm tired of bein' quiet and pretendin' I care so [Chorus] Most rappers are cunts 'bout as bad as their mums Talkin', burnin' a pack, boy, I'm packin' your lunch Call me daddy my son, play the match and you won Give you a pat on the back, little slap on the bum All these gyal on the net, pull your pants in a sec Sat in a car park, ass out, hands on the deck Tryna hang from one rich man to the next Well, if you don't have bread, bitch, have some respect [Verse 2] Man are pissed about the Brits speech They know shit's peak, bitch, please, listen when the king speak Brothers bummy like some shit cheeks Sendin' bitch tweets, actin' like some pussy that I didn't beat Imagine we could just say what we thought I'll say it anyway, fuck it, play it in court Since I broke the fuckin' bank, I ain't breakin' the law But if the police take my drugs, then I'm breakin' his jaw You got tress in the crop, let me see what you got Leave your cheddar lookin' like Swiss cheese when it's robbed Fuck your bro, fuck your sis, fuck your team, fuck your squad And if I catch a man streamin' the opps I hope your drop your phone on your head when you're alone and in bed I hope you die then wake up with a hole in a chest Then head back to that hole where you rose from the dead Then I'll bury you alive, while you're holdin' your breath, bitch [Chorus] Most rappers are cunts 'bout as bad as their mums Talkin', burnin' a pack, boy, I'm packin' your lunch Call me daddy my son, play the match and you won Give you a pat on the back, little slap on the bum All these gyal on the net, pull your pants in a sec Sat in a car park, ass out, hands on the deck Tryna hang from one rich man to the next Well, if you don't have bread, bitch, have some respect [Outro] If you don't have bread, bitch, have some respect