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letra de goon - eshs

[verse 1]
ain’t a fan of modern rap, so f-ck you and your snapchat
and soundcloud rapper, rapping-ass, f-ck off
richer than a middle-aged man who plays golf
driving home in a ford, with his head blown off
getting dome from a b-tch with no brain who wants a bone
willing to go low, if you know what i mean
checks don’t ever bounce because you know my cash is green
mean, is what they might call me, i’m a rapping machine
gun, spit, twist sh-t, like messages of a wishlist
kiss this, suck on deez b-tch, yeah you wish
more exclusive than the f-cking garden of eeee-
in my f-cking den, smoking a pound of og, yeah

[chorus]
flow is so r-t-rded, feelings disregarded
writing f-cking essays just to have them be discarded
bombarded with thoughts, a carpet bomb to go off
and pop just like a gun, sending a target to god

[verse 2]
bought some f-cking clothes
now i’m looking nice
buy a couple jewels and i’ll turn h-ll over to ice
f-ck, rolling dice with the devil, don’t gotta ask me twice
if the cold freezes over the flames and hate in one night
no, how the living f-ck should i know?
bro, even though i live here i don’t really pay close-
attention, and go fast so i don’t got to mention
my lack of giving f-cks on a regular basis
my case is unique, and so they call me a freak
and so i call ’em all waterheads, now my face goin’ be beat
and for a couple weeks, my ankle gonna feel weak
i put some blush on my cheek, and underline both my eyes
so that n0body can see, all of the black and blue marks
that like my heart’s on my sleeve, i wear on me all the time
and sticks and stones hurt my bones, but words have broke my d-mn t–th
but i don’t admit defeat, ’cause that would mean i ain’t right
and though i write with my left hand, on fam, godd-mn
you can get the f-ck out, b-tch am-scram, my flight
to amsterdam
sh-t, the f-ck am i even saying?
f-ck

[outro]
yo, hurb gnag all day

- eshs

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