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This song is by Lil Dicky and appears on the mixtape So Hard (2013).

Yessir, What's good
Look, I feel like every great rapper has one of these man
No hooks, just bars
Let me catch my breath right quick, Let's go!

What it do, was twenty-two up my the room
Thinkin' 'bout a way that I could make a move, make a boom
Debated to move to L.A. to make it in movies
But traded the pool shade and gravitated to music
Now I'm spittin' the hottest shit, it don't matter the competition
Is sadder than a bladder that be lackin a pot to piss in
It's actually kinda sicknin', the rap is beyond horrific
Admit it bruh, Waka Flocka Flame is somehow respected?
The game has gotta change, used to listen to Jay
Up on the train, now they floodin' the waves with 2 chainz
I feel like I separate with my lines like 2 lanes
It's a dark knight when the joker's better than them banes
Of the rap game, all of 'em rap lame
They claimin' all 'em ballin', well then all of 'em Sac Kings
At least they in the league tho, I can't even cop a fuckin' peacoat
That's why I'm aiming outside the box, like it's a free throw
The weed smoke fuckin' the air up
Got this muthafucka snackin more than Miggy Cabrera
Got this mafucka rappin' some crack and yappin about it on his cell phone
Tell holmes this is the track, that I got ma swell on
And I spit that shit so fast sometimes I need to slow it down
All these bitches up in the crib, it's like ma home a pound
Tell me I ain't hold it down
Spittin' ridiculous, ticklin' bitches
Up into they britches, and rip 'em like tickets
And fastballs, lookin' at a cutie on the dance flo'
I visualize that booty wit the pants off
Had a little dance off, and I ain't had no shot it was the ass fault
'Cause shawty body arguably hotter than august asphault
They claimin' they great, man these rappers straight lebronin'
I'm layin' in wait, to smack the fuck up out dat spauldin'
I'm hatin' every song, they celebratin' poppin' Dom
But I be takin' shots a brandy like a kobe at the prom pic
Bomb shit, y'all should see ma muthafuckin' blonde bitch
The bombs on dat body shawty just gotta be Islamic
I twist and I turn her on till she wet like she a faucet
No rapper give you more a set... isn't it ironic?
Because I'm seein' these labels
Pumpin' out the horseshit, got me callin' 'em stables
Pumpin' out the tours quick, but they ain't makin' hits
Ain't nobody great as this
White boy killin' brothers on that Cane and Abel tip
Tri-tip steak, up on a plate, I'm on a date
Wit a dime bitch, nibbling cake
But nevermind that, Someone tell me where the fuck the rhymes at
I was bumpin' Nas in his prime and you gonna sign that?
Oh well, guess I'm better than they'll ever be
I could do it serious but they prefer the levity
I ain't really hearin' nothin'
Say I ain't the man
I'm layin' in sand, zero spf for the tan
But now I'm back in this muthafucka, spit hotter than a flamethrowa
Waitin' to hear 'em call on ma name like rap a game show
Tell me this is lame, though I know that is bogus
Gotta focus, be the dopest, with the most set of quotes, and the grossest
When I flow sick, and the hope is
Notice is right around the corner, my time to shine
Is almost aligned, something like a quarter to nine
If I could have a quarter for the metaphors in my rhymes
I'd only have a couple dollas so I'm stickin' wit dimes (ya know)
They getting off like a train stop
I'm lookin' at ma dick like how the fuck do you stay rock
No Southern Carolina, how you got so much game cock
'Cause you movin' that vagina in the dark like a stage prop
It's all good, I'm making this the outro
I had to fuckin' spit, this is what I'm about bro
And you know what it is, holla back up at the kid Slim Boner
So damn hard, this shit is over

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