FYM

[Verse 1: Joyner Lucas] Picture me putting my city all over the map (Whoa, whoa, whoa, yeah) They wasn't believers, I had to get even at math (What, what, what, what) Be coming, I'm pulling and jumping all over your grass (Yeah, yeah, whoa, whoa, uh) So tell all my bitches I got a new girl Tell the police that I'm robbing the bank and I want all of my 50's in cash Bitch, I'm tired of living, check to check I need twenty models and some extra sex Smiling in my grave, bitch I'm fresh to death I've been drinking Wu-Tang with Inspectah Deck getting drunk (Skrt) Yeah, I got some shit that I gotta just get off my chest (Whoa, uh, uh, uh, yeah, damn) I can admit I got lots on my list and you next (uh, uh) Take it how you want it, I ain't famous like I want it But I think I might just skrrt off, blow the speakers and turn up Pop a bottle of Smirnoff, go to church with my shirt off Tell the Lord that I'm here now, I've been waiting for so long I've been patient for so long, breaking rules like there's no laws And I did it for a long time If you don't like me, take a ticket, there's a long line Nice to meet me, hoe, I think the pleasure's all mine Shit, they've been clocking me so long, I think they lost time [Chorus: Joyner Lucas] Ooh you lost your mind, nigga Fuck you mean? Whoo! Hol' on Goddamn it, nigga Fuck you mean? Whoo! And I don't trust a mothafucking soul What the fuck you mean? Whoo! Hol' up, whoa whoa whoa whoa What the fuck you mean? Whoo! (Hol up now) Look [Verse 2: Joyner Lucas] Don't know what you thinkin', compare me to niggas is nothing (Uh, uh, uh, what, what) Adrenaline pumping and blood'll be leaking and running (Word, word, yeah, yeah, uh) Shit, I do what I do, I don't care if you like it or love it (Nah, nah, uh, uh, Joyner) Tell all of my bitches I got a new girl, wait And tell the police that I'm robbing the bank and I want all my money in 100s Bitch, I'm tired of living on the edge I wanna sell drugs but they gon' call the feds I just bought a brick and that shit cost an arm and leg My momma told me, "Take it back and get a job instead" (Where's your common sense, nigga?) Me and the devil got too much in common, I swear (Damn, uh, uh, damn, uh) Born in the ghetto, I never had nothing to fear (nah, nah) Take it how you want it, I ain't famous like I want it So, I might just throw a hissy fit Call up Cassie, ask her if she broke up with Diddy yet I said shawty, if she's talking I ain't hitting it Cause she gon' call her friends up and brag about the shit we did Whoa, I ain't into pillow talking, go chop off your lips If I ain't in your top ten, go dive off a bridge My block boys got Glock fours that'll knock off your lid I doubt you gon' pop off, so hop off my dick Whoo! [Chorus: Joyner Lucas] Nigga, fuck you mean? Whoo! Goddamn it, I said fuck you mean?! Listen, I don't trust a muthafucking soul Nigga, no, nigga, fuck you mean?! Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa What the fuck you mean?! [Verse 3: Mystikal] You thought I was finished, you thought it was over? You thought I retired, you thought I went fishing with Kobe? Nigga, I'm still as the illest, considered as one of the coldest Still-a pull apart in a rapper head like Moses, mm-hm I'm throwback like I'm Motorola But hoe, I'm cooler than a cup of yogurt Black flag, Crip boy, truck soldier I'm cool with drug lords and Ayatollah's Rap god, cyclops and ogre Bitch I'm King Kong, ain't nobody told ya? Fuck you think bro still smoking? Aww fuck it, I'm Bobby Brown, 'bout to go get loaded Retarded Paul McCartney, bitch I'm rich I'm Muhammad Ali, I talk shit I'm James Brown, bout to tear down this bitch I'm Michael Jackson, bitch I'm bad as bad gon' get (oww!) Fuck you mean? [Voicemail] Yo wassup, this is Joyner I'm unable to take your call right now Leave me a brief message and I'll get back to you, peace [Brief Message] Yo, this is the third time this week That you failed to pick up your son, and I'm just so confused Like I find it funny that you stay in the studio laying something down Slanging mixtapes but you have yet to bring home diapers And lay your kid down and go to sleep On Snapchat talking 'bout, "Where's the plug?" Like I’m sure he’s at National Grid tryna cut my lights back on Like "a dollar and a dream" ass career And you can't even come home and give us a dollar for some fucking milk I'm not doing this with you, keep it 100, my nigga