SAITAMA!

Lyrics

[Intro] Ahem Yeah Buh! [Verse] I'm too cold like the winter wit' no jacket on While it's rainin' cats 'n dogs, I'm really just a Padawan Who laughs along at all these other rappers that be rappin' on The same type beats I'm smokin' on, lil bitch, I have a bong These bullets filled up to the tippy-top, I'm 'bout to snap and cough You don't got gas and all, I'm feelin' higher than an astronaut These rappers talkin' 'bout the shit they done, they like to cap a lot But really, I'm a G who got a Polo on like Capalot But hol' up (buh, buh, buh, buh, buh, buh) Sorry, I had to catch my breath quick These bars are unlimited like Olive Garden with breadsticks These rappers fed dick, they love to kiss, they love to dick ride I'm the only rapper in this fuckin' scene ain't need a cosign From Spider (AGH!) and any the collectives y'all be hoein' for So grab up on my dick just like yo' bitch and start to choke it more You slow 'n poor if you ain't bought a feature for a price But I been gettin' clout and I ain't bought no features in my life So fuck yo' standards Most of these rappers lookin' like band nerds Man, shoutout homie LAC, smokin' woods like a camper It's KARMAMOB, the gang, we shittin' on you like some Pampers My stomach feelin' dirty, now my shit look like a hamper I stay wit' a blade like Maka, you bitches soundin' like caca I'm chillin' out wit' the MOB and we cat-callin' yo' mama We coolin' outside the club and we passin' around the zaza I'm feelin' zooted as fuck while I'm chillin', bumpin' a tonka Shoutout GNARLY BOYS, the hardest group of rappers next to KARMA Bitch, I'm farmin' bars and lookin' at my scars from cuttin' cartilage My arts bizarre but it came from the heart, so fuck the market, bitch I'm in the algorithm by myself, I got head started, bitch The hardest kid with bars that hit the smartest artist's consciousness She made 'em pack they bags and made 'em hit the road to train some harder, bitch I slaughter kids with harder bars than this and they be so mad 'Cus BROKIE makin' more money than yo' dad, it's so sad 'Cus they all thinkin' BROKIE music so bad But I know they don't know that You need a fuckin' crane to lift my notepad I'm so cracked that most of these rappers thinkin' I've gone mad 'Cus everybody competin' how much dick can they throat gag They all about the clout shit, all about comparisons "Does BROKIE sound like this guy, or this guy?" I don't care, you bitch 'Cus BROKIE ain't rely on someone else to help 'em make it, bitch Y'all thinkin' this ain't genuine, but music been my therapist, bitch ISSBROKIE