Credits
PERFORMING ARTISTS
jev.
Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Jephte Kweto
Songwriter
Matthew Bartolo Moleta
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Stoic
Producer
Lyrics
Segway to the art of comedy with the young man
Well, I'ma let him come out and just entertain you
Ladies and gentlemen, this is...
Applying pressure got my diamonds wetter
Fuck a beat, see my choppers do it acapella
Money handsome, type of Benz I whip, cause a tantrum
Don't ask 'em 'cause all the shit I seen left a mark
Chapter nine forty seven, **** fly, no Aladdin
Got December twenty seven on my rings and my wrists
Not religious with the shits but made a profit like John
With this three sixteens, ****, fuck you mean?
See the girl of your dreams
Fuck me back to sleep, I'm barbarian
Living vegetarian, toss your bitch salad
Give her carrots, make her count my green
White girl, what's your name? She like, "Britney, bitch
I let her play with my snake like she Britney bitch
We got rocks, paper, two bitches scissoring
Her new **** name Bob but he ain't built like this
Her new **** name Bob but he ain't built like, please
Y'all need to start spendin' time with your kids
That's all I got to say
Excuse my common sense, we got dollars over here
**** wanna get the bread, got baguettes over here
How you aiming for the head when the crown over here
Put that M on your head like Vegeta over here, um
Smoking on that Babylon weather
Got dem billabong jeans with dem matching margielas
I better than your whole crew times two
We got sticks and the drums we the roots
Plus we got dem Benzes, women speaking in different accents
What happened? We weren't supposed to make it, we ejected
My **** stay frozen like the set of Cool Runnings
Gave God a high five when we stood on our money
And fuck the presidents I like mine in caskets
Fuck dem broke hoes, I like mine with with assets
Huff puff blow your head off with passion
About four shots, y'all thought Pharrel was packing, huh
That boy is too, that guy is too happy to be on stage
It's critical, three sixteen's, I'm so biblical
Spend a couple decimals on vehicles
Then I drop the top, **** know I ball like Fetty Wap
So the loner stay dripping, tell 'em **** get a mop
Been this way since my adolescences
Turn my L's into lessons, surrounded by the realest brethren
Who got a sweet tooth for cream, ain't street
No set, just L's we throw up like bulimics
But if the beef come seeking, we keep the iron like anemics
LONER inc., you fucking with the venom
Written by: Jephte Kweto