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letra de louis xvi - system.void

bedsheets
never not made

go to sleep when my blood stains
on my money
i’m just running
my mind over sums
skipping summer

tattoo like a drummer
i spend in abundance
drinking mimosa on portugal sunsets
your girlie was fun but who said i was done yet?
kissing their man with that c-m breath

you said you got b-tches but seeing is only believing to me
whenever i see you in studios, man you’re running like 20 d-cks deep

you said you would travel abroad, you said that that journey would teach you
you came back your track is a sh-tty attempt at just dissin’ you said you were positive rap?

get eaten alive, ho

you’re a one trick pony with a backpack
probably spent $100 on that kendrick snapback
don’t tell other people how to spend their money
you’re a surrogate
project your mommy on the rap game

but suburban learning has occurred you’re breaking patterns, bad at words
even though you spent like 1000 per, every 100 views
you are not hood, you should not talk hood problems

backwood hipsters is all i call them
smoke reggie blunts, while the camera follows
i don’t give a f-ck ’bout your feelings on bottles and drugs
i just judge by your character
spreading the love
the problem is love a prodigal problem we bottle it up
just be nice to your neighbor

your art can’t define you
but these artists are salty they try to define you
face white like i’m michael
i’m a pale skinned male, h-ll there it is
with my name spelled wrong on your diss track
so thanks for learning my heritage, irish i only f-ck girls and drink guinness
i fight till i p-ss and in celtic my name means i’m n0ble forgive me

maybe you’d be dealing with a feeling you’re a simple form of life
like a protozoan
not j.cole but a clone of him
i don’t give a f-ck if you like my sound
it’s better off without these p-ssies bringing down my music
i don’t want a f-ckin collab i just wanna tongue a tab, and just kick it with my fans
in the soviet union
how the f-ck is that for a movement?

my fan club on vk has wavy b-tches and the listen to that trap tune
the one i made about you f-ckers posing as a cl-ssroom
my teachers never taught me nada
their salary was half of the problem
ap student i stunted on y’all
i had to teach all these kids string theory
three i s in your name
don’t ever mean you’re capable of livin with a clean spirit
maybe you should take a shot at rappin money
instead making more tracks about a dead spirit

i’m mean spirited
maybe it’s the sci fi horror
i’m a s-d-st
getting high
read manga till i’m taken
by satan
abrasive
like louis xvi

off with thier heads

i do not play
doing this sh-t from the cradle to grave
grave to a cradle i’m buddhist
there’s layers to sh-t
so just walk in shoes
and we’ll prove
that a p-ssy like you could not do this

so just let a motherf-cker be happy with a check

- system void

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