[Verse 1: IDK]
This is what you all been waitin' for, ain't it?
What people paid paper for, dammit
This that goin' to the gun range with the click-clack-pow aiming
That boy from PG but D.C. still claim him
And I ain't gotta act like I'm from there, I'm real
Some rappers magicians, they trick you, they Copperfield
Act tough as a gold medal, you link 'em, they daffodil
Meanwhile, I'm just runnin' back kick returns on the field
Where the Redskins be losin' but we gon' support 'em still
That's how you know where our loyalty at
So place a bet against me, where your royalties at?
I bet I leave your ass streamed of your fourteen percent
Then fuck on your bitch, my dick named Mutombo, I'm lit
I rub on her clit, she drip, then I cum on her tits
How common is this to spit like a fuckin' attempt?
I'm murderin' shit, I flip, then I leave your ass flipped
I flip the script, then skip to your fuckin' event
I take the check and dip, moments later, it's spent
You take the check and shit, it's enough for your 'rents
So how the fuck you telling me that I ain't good enough, prick?
Ah... I think that I'm top ten, top five
Top three, top two, top one, and I'm still not done
Trump supporters' daughters love me, so I still think we won
She on her knees for that black thing, no Kaepernick, I copped the neck
[Interlude: Joey Bada$$]
Yo
Yo, yo
Badmon! Uhh
[Verse 2: Joey Bada$$]
Here's what you been waitin' for, ain't it? (Yep)
It's a portrait, if you can see the picture, paint it
I ain't got to explain it, this lane, I done paved it (Right)
I done paid my dues, now I'm just collectin' payments (Collect)
One verse, that's gon' be your whole life savings
If I was you, I'd be makin' funeral arrangements (True)
These bars, I could leave your mind in enslavement (What else?)
And beat you with the bar that I'm raisin', I come in, gun blazin' (Facts)
We gon' see who get the last laugh (Hah)
It's funny 'cause these niggas always trippin' off the past (Hah)
Think this shit a joke until somebody get smoked
Choked, off the very words that they spoke
Listen here, though, it's gettin' near close (Yeah, huh)
'Bout to blow your brains through your fuckin' earlobes (Earlobes, um)
This one, the kid been gone for a while, they missed him
Patient with the shot, when we blast off, won't miss him
[Verse 3: Russ]
Somebody gon' die tonight
Rappers see me but don't say shit like they don't have vocals
And they be dissin' on the socials like they don't have Pro-Tools
They big you up until you're big enough
I guess the love was never real, as if I really give a fuck
I'm already eight figures up
Y'all are in the minors still, I'm Willie Mays
Y'all still jumpin' out of bed for 50K
I roll back over and continue fuckin' all y'all's favorite
I'm the greatest, I'm not stoppin' until all y'all say it
I'm courtside, closin' multi-million dollar deals
Then we celebrate it, eat Italian, thousand dollar meals
I'm in Lake Como, you stay in NoHo, the hate is promo
I play solo, women take photos, ride me like they play Polo
My crew solid, new problems, my day ones deserve two commas
A few dollars moves nada, we still act the same, you not a—
Part of the formula that put me here, so fuck you
When the second album drops, watch who they all run to
[Outro: Russ]
Haha
