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letra de beef! - mr luck

[intro: lil kori]
kori give me your nectar
hentai gang (ayy, huh)
ayy, huh, what? huh
yah, huh, yah (b-tch), huh
swag (ayy), huh, swag (b-tch), huh
yeah man, hey, yeah man
who got beef with me, ayy (what? yuh)
who got beef with me (ayy), ayy
yeah, yeah man, huh, lil kori

[verse 1: lil kori & mr. luck]
i walk in the white house and set off some c4
then watch n-ggas die while i’m eatin’ some popcorn
i’m in this bih’ flexin’ with mr. luck, and these n-ggas be loudmouths, i’m callin’ them fogh-rns
coom squad, smeat gang, we bomb the capital
mortal kombat ’cause my aim h-lla tactical
eight-year-old loli, she lookin’ seductable
eat up that coochie just like it’s a lunchable
ooh, yeah i’m out here, i’m drippin’, i’m splashin’
up five n-gga like skippy, he dabbin’
airplanes in russia, you know i’m highjackin’
cop me a prius, i’m stuffin’ the racks in
i’m with mr. luck smokin’ mint blizzard pack
i read the response, n-gga, that sh-t was ass
you dissed tmc, but i know that you scared of me
i know that you salty, you always get carried, b
why you sayin’ weird things to samuriy’s mom?
boy, you braindead, must be off of a bong
you called her a milf, thinkin’ she would be flattered?
but instead of that, it went horribly wrong
ol’ big-ass theodore built-ass n-gga
ol’ “i’ll never sign me a deal” ass n-gga
ol’ “i have a week until dairy queen drops and like kori is over for real” ass n-gga
y’all crushin’ not once and you ugly as f-ck
fat lil’ white boy, you musty as f-ck
and yo’ t–th got cracks, boy, you crusty as f-ck
and that bed that you lay on is dusty as f-ck
lil’ jit, keep my n-ggas’ names outta yo’ mouth
’cause you from port orange and not from the south
and i know you tryna feature with n-ggas in my circle, they carry you without a doubt
so i’m with mr. luck, n-gga how do you feel?
my sh-t be electric just like it’s an eel
lil’ boy, tell your parents get you off them pills
broke-ass n-gga, think you from beverly hills?
and tmc 3 got more streams than your f-ckin’ discography
heard yo’ ass got caught with child p-rnography
stop hustlin’ with me, lil’ boy, you not knockin’ me (pew, pew)
steady copyin’ my sh-t, look who mockin’ me (pew, ayy)
what? who got beef with me?
all you n-ggas mad ’cause your crush up inside my sheets
usin’ soundtrap, but you can’t do it as good as me
me, egg, spinach, mr. luck, we run this industry, yuh (oh sh-t)
[verse 2: mr. luck]
worse yung spinach done pulled up on the block
music so bad, gives me a f-ckin’ shock
yo’ music sound worse than a motherf-ckin’ clock
i’ll beat yo’ ass like i’m a f-ckin’ jock
mint, yo’ music keep gettin’ worse
burned so bad, you need a f-ckin’ nurse
you’ve never made a good motherf-ckin’ verse
worst spinach clone in the universe
you have r-t-rdation
this mr. luck and kori’s nation
roastin’ you, can’t resist the temptation
your flow so bad, i need a translation
tellin’ me ’bout your drama, like i care
b-tch, you wear women’s underwear
all you do is sit in a f-ckin’ chair
for you to stop makin’ music is my prayer
stop actin’ like you got a ho
stop actin’ like yo’ music got flow
you ask for a feature, people say no
i would know yo’ music so ass, it makes me go “woah”
mint, we hate you for a reason
on mint blizzard, this sh-t open season
gimme the shotty, i shoot you for treason
i’m so cold, i got you freezin’
the dogsh-t tapes are sh-t
your face is where we f-ckin’ spit
your music is ass, you gotta admit
you should just motherf-cking quit
you call kori annoying, i knew you were capping
you think your music is f-ckin’ slapping
i can make your music while napping
whenever you rap, i hear crickets, i’m laughing
eggsoup, kori, spinach and luck on top
thirty-eight views on yo’ song, what a flop
spinach makin’ bangers, he can’t stop
i know you cream every time i f-ckin’ drop
yeah, we got beef
when you stop makin’ music, i’ll feel relief
yung spinach’s style, you a thief
sensitive-ass boy, fragile like a leaf
you tried to bully eggsoup
now you gettin’ bullied by the whole f-ckin’ group
take yo’ career, like swoop
takin’ yo’ ass down like a f-ckin’ troop
you copyin’ yung spinach cumshot
sayin’ the n-word, you got caught
a lesson you gettin’ motherf-ckin’ taught
yo’ d-ck smaller than a motherf-ckin’ dot
boy, we diggin’ yo’ grave
givin’ yo’ career a wave, this song is a f-ckin’ rave
yo’ career is what no one can save
i know you fap to lil float
i know you love every song he wrote
i know you want his d-ck down your f-ckin’ throat
k!ll mint blizzard, you already know my motherf-ckin’ vote
i got a little story
’bout a kid who failed to get glory
who got obliterated by luck and kori
we destroyin’ him now, it finna be gory
[outro: mr. luck & lil kori]
godd-mn, mint blizzard just lost his whole f-ckin’ career
got anything else to say, kori?
yeah
l plus ratio plus r.i.p bozo

- mr luck

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