E-ER (feat. Lil Yachty)

Y'all rockin' with DJ Scheme, lil' bitch

I'm sippin' tea

Beat what I eat

Kicked up the feet

No Assassin's Creed

Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee

Good reflexes like you knocked at the knee

Accept defeat

You, I delete

My boots from Greece made with feathers from geese

Counting loose leaf with the face of deceased

Count up the bread, count up the yeast

This is for my nemesis, rival

If you pull up, then you're dead, uh uh, rifle

We gon' cross 'em like the symbol on a Bible

Call him Spongebob 'cause he moving like without a spinal

Huh, never not woke, my gland pineal

On the patio, fucking Princess's peach, Mario

Yellow Louis V overalls on me, look like Wario

On the mic, I'm a animal, hit a cardio through audio

If you want beef

Capische

Smoking on tree

Hashish

She said, "No, don't leave"

Baby, I'm oh so green

We got Dracs, sticks

On top of blicks

Blood on my back, don't get caught in a blitz

Chopsticks, got me a pick

Steppin' on shit, put my foot in a brick

Fuck you mean?

I'm ready

Yo, yo

I'm in the land of the lost

Now I'm chill, Jack Frost

And my conscience like Constantine, that hot sauce

Jack Skellington limbs 'cause I'm known to pop off

And I'm one with the force, so the saber is my sword

Got a dick tucked in like RuPaul

Two bananas and a boat in the U-Haul

And the dope look sick like Wuhan

'Nother brick coming in from Tucson

I was too piffed up when a **** walked in

I was serving up bricks at a low end

I got too much boof stuffed in my pants

I could probably fuck around, build a snowman

And the stone, stay chilling with your bitch

It's for him and her like Roseanne

'Cause the shit go down and a **** get wet

Shoulda never put your life in a ho hands

If you want beef

Capische

Smoking on tree

Hashish

She said, "No, don't leave"

Baby, I'm oh so green

We got Dracs, sticks

On top of blicks

Blood on my back, don't get caught in a blitz

Chopsticks, got me a pick

Stepping on shit, put my foot in a brick

Kick a bitch to the curb if she don't speak with manners

My house sit alone behind gates by the manor

My new hoes look whiter than Carlos Santana

My bitch from the hood, mama's hustled on camera

School from the seventies, coulda been dropped out

First son of Sanford, my boo that was English

Like city of Oxford, just finesse some pussy

I need me a Oscar

I thought I want kids till I sat by a toddler

Recorded two hits in one hour at Doppler

I walk in my house naked, holding my chopper

We do the same shit, we change names just like soccer

My jewelry box looking like Davy Jones' locker

I want Addison Rae to become my doctor

And check on my privates

Put her in a skirt and a scarf like a pilot

He didn't make it past the first clip like a polyp

I'm sick, I need medicine before I riot

My bitch pussy sweet, it help with my diet

Can't go off the label, boy, I gotta eye it

I gotta smell, I gotta taste it

On God

What's this? What's this?

What's this? What's this 'cause it better not be

Slatt, damn