Credits
PERFORMING ARTISTS
Adrian Waller
Lead Vocals
Wale Onayemi
Lead Vocals
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Paris Texas
Songwriter
William J. Sullivan
Songwriter
Dilip Venkatesh
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Paris Texas
Producer
William J. Sullivan
Producer
Dilip Venkatesh
Producer
Lyrics
[Verse 1]
Finger bitches like a Tech Deck
Superman, her pussy bald like Lex
Draw on **** who wanna act sketch
Not a gangster, this I do confess
Pockets out of shape, they obese like
I'm just a dumb ****, I don't teach right
Morals out of whack, I don't preach right (Wait, wait)
Who got the pills? I'm tryna geek like
My mind is abomination, I can't stand the population
You get up, they think you sayin'
Don't like me, I'm glad you hating
In Atlanta with a Mason
Felt like Kenny in my hood
I could die like any day, so every day, I need my payment
Me and bro like Shaq and Kobe
Shit you say is straight bologna
I'm so cool, a great producer
My beats staring at Medusa
Shut up, bitch, I need medulla
One eye open, Slick the Ruler
In my circle like a hula
Everybody else got me like
[Chorus]
Hmm, hmm
Got me mad like hmm, hmm
Got me mad like hmm, hmm
Got me mad like hmm, hmm
Got me mad like—
[Verse 2]
Long dick
Got her long winded when she blew me down, it was a breeze
I got raw denim on my body, yes, it's Japanese
Raw denim in my DNA 'cause it's in my genes
Just a raw **** down to the core
Paris Texas swept the nation like a chore
If she at my house, got all four to the floor
My opps got bad acne, they all dirty and they poor
I don't need attention, you can pay me in respect
Huh, and that's on me
**** still sorry like apologies
On that grind like a Nike SB
I'll punch-in this bitch like Apollo Creed
Animal, way I'm 'bout to skin this beat
The waviest human, it might be me
And I brought The Human to Manatee
All my notes still blue like sea
I know **** in the jungles, trees
Hairline trigger and it might recede
SMG through your AMG
Two fingers up, made her cum in peace
Bitch give me head, got me stuck in my seat
This bitch got me talkin' like Jar Jar Binks
Haven't seen the bitch like three, four weeks
All 'cause she was with a **** that's weak
[Chorus]
Hmm, hmm
Got me mad like hmm, hmm
Got me mad like hmm, hmm
Got me mad like hmm, hmm
Got me mad like hmm, hmm
Got me mad like hmm, hmm
Got me mad like hmm, hmm
Got me mad like hmm, hmm
Got me mad like—
[Bridge]
Get your money now, get your bag
Immediate
[Verse 3]
**** do not get it, they ain't got no vision
I can't hang 'round bro no more, he movin' weird 'round bitches
I'm so antisocial my bitch think that I'm autistic
Paint her walls, I get artistic, I'm sophisticated
Heavy melanated, no hairline, they hate I made it
I don't even believe in Jesus, auntie must've prayed it
I stand on ten, my opposite like antonym
While I'm in her guts, her BF call, don't answer him
Pockets Zombieland, I need brain again (Okay, let's go)
I'm on M-A-R-S, move around like Rocketman (Okay, let's go)
When you hear this song, you better fuckin' body slam (Okay, let's go)
I'm on too much shit, I'm 'bout to geek in front of fans
Run amok, what I gross is lookin' yuck (Okay, let's go)
Lot of O's for the show, stupid fuck (Okay, let's go)
Someone find my nicotine, I'm 'bout to buck (I'm 'bout to buck)
Trucker hat, I'm in my prime, no Optimus (Okay, let's go)
I turn a fifth of vodka to a pessimist, okay, let's go
Half-empty, straight face, I never glitch, okay, let's go
Band-Aid over scar, I'm hard to miss, okay, let's go
Seein' blood, face first, I'm in the pit, okay, let's go
This bitch's throat is not a fuckin' joke, I swear she never gag
I treat that cash like any meanie, lil' ****, I need more
Pullin' out this pin, this shit about to blow, it's like a frag
I never read that octagon, my ****, I stay on G-O
[Verse 4]
Soon as I walk in the room, all of these **** should get in they place
Soon as I walk in the room, watch how these bitches react to my face
Some light up like a candle, some'll get mad and that's okay
Give it a few more minutes, a bad one shakin' it all in my face
Huh, huh, like a trash man, watch how I manage her waist
Like a trash can, watch how I handle the dump
If I gauge 12 behind me, just like Morris, I gotta run
These bitches tryna moon me, but it don't faze me, they want a son
[Outro]
Okay, city on fire, put blame on us
Never did care for the fame on us
Dirt, blood, shame, and it's pain on us
Fuck, I already said that shit
Said what I said and I meant that shit
Try to talk down, we gon' dead that shit
Left with a sword, we gon' kill this shit
Been 'bout time we behead this bitch
Whoa
Written by: Dilip Venkatesh, Paris Texas, William J. Sullivan