Famiglia

[Chorus: Nyck Caution] Yeah, my famiglia real G's so you never hear 'em They just go about their business, never leave a witness Y'all would rather post it on the 'Gram to maintain an image Shit is ridiculous I'm so appalled, this is no one's fault, but everybody's responsible They all shitted on the kid when he had a little dream But they love him when he's doin' the impossible You dudes is comical [Interlude: Nyck Caution] Ayy, yeah Ayy, ayy, yeah Get that motherfucker (Yeah) Yeah [Verse 1: Nyck Caution] My brother told me, "Go easy on those guys" (Guys) They gon' have it harder when they see the kiddo rise (See the kiddo rise) Beatrix, I'm gaugin' out their eyes (Eyes) Every time these verses are reprised (Yeah) Kill 'em with success and they'll never have a clue to how they died (Died, died) Think about it You ain't really mad at me, you bitches mad at yourself That shit is bad for your health But fuck it (Fuck it, go and drag 'em to Hell) You a selfish motherfucker, only pass to yourself (Only pass to yourself) Maybe I should tone it down a little, ask for some help (I should ask for some help) But there's two types of people in this world (Yeah) Those who gotta ask (Ask), and those who make it happen themself And I refuse to be a bitch like you, I'm not a bit like you I've been stabbed in the back so many times that it slip right through Life's a bitch, but every dog has his day (Yeah) Wait until that bitch bite you [Chorus: Nyck Caution] Yeah, my famiglia real G's so you never hear 'em 'Cause they be low as fuck, try me, come and test your luck I be tryna chill, but the problems always level up Feel like Meadow's dad, ventin' to a memo pad When it ends, does it really all cut to black? 'Cause if it does, I hope the afterlife will cut us slack (Slack) I've been to Hell and back (Back) Already walkin' dead (Dead) Feel like a motherfuckin' zombie [Verse 2: Meechy Darko] So much pussy I'm denyin' bitches They get with us, then they lie with us Big stone, wide eyes, see my diamonds glisten Hustle harder than Tracy Morgan in the '90s, nigga Gutter grimy like a '90s nigga Doggystyle, the right position Kiss the girls, make 'em cry Tellin' more lies than a politician Got the gas with me in the Trump Towers Burn the shit down if the nigga win it Only sold my soul 'cause I tried to flip it, huh The pussy mine, use my tongue to write initial, huh I take your flow, diss you with it, I ain't fuckin' with it Say, "Mister, mister, please give me some of that, I need a fixin'" We get high as fuck, then we fight and fuck It's like guns and roses with the twisted sister Eyes dilated 'cause this 'cid is vicious Got a queen kissin' on my sex pistol I'm in the Gucci Snoopy, fully lucid, death grippin' Drunk drivin', swervin' left with it Feel like the only rapper who can match his magic madness is probably Mathers Bipolar disorder, man, I might be manic I battle myself for practice, survival tactics, I adapted I asked God to show my way, but map, He never handed Satan's guestlist Fuckin' Rihanna in Bahamas, top of my checklist Turquoise settin', blood diamonds, die for my necklace Only-child syndrome, selfish Trapped in my mind, doin' a sentence Shit, somebody help him (Help him, please, help him, help him) Shit, somebody help him (Help him, please)