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letra de we need to talk about kevin - tim the fanboy philosopher

[chorus: tim the fanboy philosopher]
oh, no! kevinbo!
yo, what ya gonna do?
you’re a trainwreck crashing
and your days are through
the rap mob is packing
and we’re coming for you
it’s a 187 on the 202
oh, no! kevinbo!
yo, what ya gonna do?
you’re a trainwreck crashing
and your days are through
the rap mob is packing
and we’re coming for you
it’s a 187 on the 202, f-ck you!

[verse 1: tim the fanboy philosopher]
i threw a shot at you in jest to see how you would react
but you recoiled like a p-ssy so i had to retract
you cl!cked delete, awoke the beast, you got caught in the act
your content’s wack, your raps are trash, now i’m on the attack
this b-tch deletes his mean comments, sh-t, what more can i say?
even if it’s something mundane like “your music is g-y”
and if it bugs you? hey, it’s just a part of the play
d-mn, bro! do you know how much sh-t i get a day?
we get on zoey quinn’s case just for sleeping with dudes?
sh-t! this cracker gave his own cd a glowing review
your mix is a mess like mixing gas with jews
and i’m the gold-bar gastapo and i’m coming for you (f-ck you)
man, it’s go time, kevin! man, keep up with the clock!
instead of running with your best you’d rather race with a walk
you’re in last place and proud, i’m on my way to the top
but you’re a bottom-b-tch, b-tch and you can suck my c-ck
but you’re a h0m- so you’d probably slide your lips to the base
and you would savor the flavor ’cause it’s the same as your taste
compared to you vanilla ice is the best of the race
you spitting failure? i’m spitting flames right into your face
i’ll face-f-ck your girl and i’m not discreet
she’ll watch you cower in the corner while you beat your meat
you’re a name-b-tt rapper and your rhymes are weak
i spit the word of god, (n-gga), i’m the god of the streets!
it’s judgement day, i hold the keys to heaven
we got enough virgins here, so h-ll’s where you’ll be dwelling
but your wack rhymes even got the demons repelling
looks like he’s at it again, there’s something wrong with kevin

[verse 2: poppa cherry]
unsubscribe’s a b-tch? what the f-ck is this?
call you kim mathers ’cause you’re all on shady’s d-ck
yeah, you’re just a pony with barely one trick
but this track ain’t for horseplay, so you can eat a pr-ck
you get me more angry than ever before
you’re a discount, special needs macklemore
i’m not trying to make wheelchair kids my show stopper
but f-ggot, take notes! they ride a track propper
and that’s just something your -ss hasn’t done
make fun of tim’s weight? but you haven’t sold none
put your -ss on blast like my name was shego
then embarr-ss yourself like your clown alter-ego
you can parade around from march to may
but you lie if you tell me your rhymes ain’t g-y
but no hard feelings to the lgbt
but when i hear your songs i want hiv
’cause your music sucks, yeah, you’ll never get paid
when your ep drops i’ll need hearing aids
but if you want bars then we’ll give you some of them
you’re just sh-tty white chocolate that swallows eminem
i’m playing ping-pong with your lady’s jaw
have fun cleaning c-m out your lady’s bra
but don’t ever come at tim without a proper cause
or we’ll clap back again like we’re demanding applause

[verse 3: tim the fanboy philosopher]
you underestimate my sk!ll, you’re like a sheep to a goat
try to take down my vids with the popular vote?
try sh-t like that again, i’ll take a knife to your throat
don’t even rap back, b-tch, the blood’ll force you to choke
lil chump come at me with a lil pump flow?
why don’t you pump your lil’ d-ck to a soldja boy show
nevermind, lock your c-ck and watch the seeds that i sow
’cause when i c-m inside your b-tch, she’ll be screaming, “tim-oh!”
and when the baby’s in her belly, i’ll name it kevin and abort it
i’ll smash its skull, break its legs, pull its spine out and contort it
so brutal even planned parenthood couldn’t support it
now you’ll know to use protection if you hear this and retort it
and if you hear this and report it? even h-ll will be too merciful
this could have been fun, then you made this sh-t personal
i’m the angel of death and my sk!ll is liturgical
i’m done with you, doc is here

[verse 4: unt-tled doc]
about to make this sh-t surgical
i just did an autopsy, ran tests on the body
miss bo, sit down, take a sip of bacardi
i’m sorry, seems your son went and crashed the wrong party
he tried to strike at unsubscribe (but his shots were too shoddy)
so he tried to throw a diss but he just couldn’t serve it
got p-ssed, fought dirty, crashed hard, couldn’t swere it
your boy’s gonna need a coffin, be sure to reserve it
and at his eulogy i’ll tell them all the reasons he deserved it

[interlude: tim the fanboy philosopher]
hey yo, kevin, listen
i’m not threatening you nor am i asking you
as your superior, i’m comanding you
stay off the internet, stay off youtube
and never ever say my f-cking name again
hey yo

[outro: tim the fanboy philosopher]
tell me what you’re gonna do
stabbed too many backs and you lost your crew
judgement day is coming soon
it’s a 187 on the 202, f-ck you!

- tim the fanboy philosopher

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