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letra de ishowspeed diss track - packgod

[intro: ray charles, packgod]
hit the road jack, and don’cha come back
no more, no more, no more, no more
hit the road jack (come on), and don’cha come back (come on)
no more-
yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah

[verse 1: packgod]
now i’m finna-gonna get up on this motherf-ckin’ crack-head streamer tryna scam his fans
b-tch call himself “ishowspeed,” stop tryna show us yo’ underpants
boy really got famous for barking at people and doing a fortnite dance
this dude let a crypto scam spread his assh0l- open for a hundred grand
d-mn sellout
you failin’ to handle the disses i sh-ll out
boy tried to mic up with me in his v.c. ’til he started crying and got ran the h-ll out
ain’t n0body give a f-ck about, “sewey”
gta stripper, you shakin’ yo’ booty
your facetimes with adin be gettin’ mad fruity
your music is more poorly written than luffy
b-tch, why you screamin’? it got yo’ fans creamin’
this man lookin’ like he’s possessed by a demon
you dated a man and could not even keep him
yo’ dad came on stream and then gave you a beatin’
wanna f-ck on ronaldo but can’t ever meet him
can’t ever see him, your hopes getting blurry
barkin’ at sh-t, you a closeted furry
nappy ass hair, man, them dreads lookin’ dirty
bro lost the d-mn private jet to a high five
that is the saddest sh-t i’ve seen in my life
swear this b-tch think he the wolf off of twilight
playin’ with adin’s b-lls, nfl highlights
[bridge: packgod]
lil’ b-tch, now i’m switchin’ the beat up
look like pre-k when yo’ fans have a meetup
get to the blazin’, this sh-t’s finna heat up
how yo’ name “speed” but you strugglin’ to keep up?
know what, f-ck this sh-t, adin ross, now i’m on yo’ head
still owe me 3k from that talent show, b-tch

[verse 2: packgod]
i am not done with you
f-ck yo’ lil’ chat, you ain’t gettin no “w”s
clout chasin’ friends, yeah, that’s why they all f-ck with you
sh-t’s gettin’ old man, we’ve all seen enough of you
all these girls on yo’ stream but not one gettin’ under you
it’s time you get checked, i ain’t talkin’ no elon
andrew tate’s d-ck only place that you be on
if bronny ain’t come to yo’ motherf-ckin’ life we all know that the sidewalk is where you would sleep on
flowin’ semi-automatic, put you in a packet
you a gamblin’ addict, fat, you look asthmatic
hoppin’ d-ck like a rabbit, this sh-t f-ckin’ tragic
you a little maggot, shut up, b-tch
yeah, like, how you 22 but lookin’ 38?
you scam yo’ fans, you makin’ millies off of stake
you sold yo’ soul to be they little f-ckin’ puppet
get a shirt and cover up your f-ckin’ gullet
beat him in a beatbox, b-tch i need a detox
adin got the top g gettin’ in his g-spot
runnin’ like some rebooks, gettin’ f-cked by zias
losin’ track of all the rappers that you’ve tried to beat off
b-tch, b-tch, yeah, better get me my 3k
told him to run that sh-t back like a relay
entire comedic appeal is to be g-y
lately yo’ vids bombin’ harder than d-day
yo’ brain cells be harder to locate than ceeday
b-tch you is more of a sellout than ea
yo’ sister be playin’ with b-lls, call her, “d wade”
d-mn, she nasty
packgod, motherf-cker can’t catch me
you rollin’ on the d-ck, rick astley
spit fire but these b-tches can’t match me

- packgod

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