Pew, pew-pew
First person shooter mode,
we turnin' your song to a funeral
To them niggas that say they want offices,
you better be talkin' my work in cubicles
Yeah, them boys had it locked, but I knew the code
Lot of niggas debatin' my numeral,
not the three, not the two, I'm the U-N-O
Yeah
Numero U-N-O
Me and Drizzy, this shit like the Super Bowl
Man, this shit damn near big as the-
Big as the what? Big as the what? Big as the what?
Big as the Super Bowl
But the difference is it's just two guys
playin' shit that they did in the studio
Niggas usually send they verses back to me
and they be terrible, just like a two-year old
I love a dinner with some fine women
When they start debatin' about who the G.O.A.T
I'm like "Go 'head, say it then, who the G.O.A.T.?
"Who the G.O.A.T.? Who the G.O.A.T.?
Who the G.O.A.T.?"
"Who you bitches really rootin' for?"
Like a kid from January, then November,
nigga, it's just do it cold
Big as the what? Big as the what? Big as the what?
Big as the Super Bowl
Niggas so thirsty to put me in beef
Dissectin' my words and start lookin' too deep
I look at the tweets and start suckin' my teeth
I'm lettin' it rock 'cause I love the mystique
I still wanna get me a song with YB
Can't trust everything that you saw on IG
Just know if I diss you,
I made sure you know that
I hit you like I'm on your caller ID
I'm namin' the album "The Fall Off", it's pretty ironic,
'cause it ain't no fall off for me
Still in this bitch gettin' bigger,
they waitin' on the kid
to come jot like a father to be
Love when they argue the hardest MC, is it K-Dot,
is it Aubrey or me?
We the big three like we started a league,
but right now, I feel like Muhammed Ali
Huh, yeah, yeah, huh, yeah, Muhammed Ali
Yeah, the one that they call
when they shit ain't connectin' no more,
feel like I got a job in IT
Rhymin' with me is the biggest mistake
The Spider-Man meme is me lookin' at Drake
It's like we recruited your homies to beat demon
we got 'em a ten in the weight
Hate how the gang gotta wait for the bars, man,
this shit like a prison escape
Everybody steppers, well fuck it,
then everybody breakfast,
and I'm 'bout to clear up my plate (Huh huh, huh)
When I show up, it's motion picture blockbuster
The G.O.A.T. with the golden pin, the top toucher
The spot rusher, sprayed
his whole shit up, the crop duster
Not Russia, but block rusher
Nigga
I'm 'bout to click out on this shit
I'm 'bout to click, woah
I'm 'bout to click out on this shit
I'm 'bout to click, woah
I'm down to click out
you hoes and make a crime scene
I click the trigger on the stick like a high beam
Man, I was Bentley wheel whippin'
when I was nineteen
She call my number, leave her hangin',
she got dry-cleaned
She got a Android, her messages is lime green
I search one name,
and end up seein' twenty tings
Nadine, Christine, Justine, Kathleen,
Charlene, Pauline, Claudine
Man, I pack 'em in this phone
like some sardines
And they send me naked pictures,
it's the small things
You niggas still takin' pictures on a Gulfstream
My youngins richer than
you rappers and they all stream
I really hate that you been sellin' them
some false dreams
Man, if your pub was up for sale,
I buy the whole thing
Will they ever give me flowers?
Well, of course not
They don't wanna have that talk,
'cause it's a sore spot
They know The Boy,
the one they gotta boycott
I told Jimmy Jam
I use a GRAMMY as a door stop
Girl gave me some head because I need it
And if I fuck with you,
then after I might eat it, what?
Niggas talkin' 'bout
when this gon' be repeated
What the fuck, bro?
I'm one away from Michael
Nigga, beat it, nigga, beat it, what?
Beat it, what? Beat it, what?
Beat it, what? Beat it, what?
Beat it, what? Beat it, what?
Beat it, what? Beat it, what?
Beat it, what? Beat it, what?
Beat it, what? Beat it, what?
Don't even pay me back on none them favors,
I don't need it