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letra de melt some chumps - wealthmasta

[verse 1: wealthmasta]
ay, f-ck these two busters, we boutta melt some chumps like they b-tter
can’t say which one of em’s dumber cause i can barely tell these bums from each other
but these p-ssies f-cked with some hunters and so now we boutta gun down these suckers
so these wimps better run and take cover, seek refuge and get holed up in a bunker
and they’d get usеd to that placement since thеy live in their mother’s bas-m-nt
and spend all day m-st-rbatin, it’s like that’s their one form of entertainment
yeah, it’s sad watching you pathetic cucks pretendin’ to be a team of elites
cause edging is the only way you virgins are ever reaching your peak
and you must not be using your head if you think you’ll defeat pev or me
so say you grinding, cause the only thing you’ll ever beat is your meat
these schmucks failed in life, so they writing trash disses like some wussies
meanwhile we out here pimping, slicing bad b-tches through their p-ssies
and this punk goldenshower be doin anything to try and stay relevant
his whole career’s based on dissin’ cool people, now that’s some pathetic sh-t
cause when it comes to actual rapping, this loser is on par with excrement
maybe he should open a goodnature account and get some dough from sellin it
and i know that hotsanta’s nervous, acts strong but he’s never certain when he’s f-ckin with wealth
and this glock’s gonna murk him, and claus knows that ima hurt him, boutta come with the sh-lls
says he got a c-ck he be servin and tossin’ dirt at us, surely he bout as hung as an elf
cause when you call everybody a virgin then honestly it alerts us that you’re just one yourself

[verse 2: harrytrevpev]
see two n-ggas looking at they screens twenty four seven, never felt women’s heaven
had to pay fees to feel a women’s touch, mean men to kids on the internet, plenty more for ’em
sad, old enough to be some’s dad, but pretend as much of a little sh-t think they bad
moving no one, having nothing done, never felt love from mom, intend to get attention from us
thus, they be d-ckheads, proving they home life is dead, wit bled, want to be center of intentions it seems
all alone in they bed, laid not getting laid or head, abusing grace from those who say
call them hoes for what they may, not agree with, sought lovely gift, profit from it
but they can’t even rap, sh-t so ass, sh-t so trash, bask in asking for cash, probably on streets
then once they done, hop online ‘n argue with kids who still trick or treat, no hate to dem
some of dem got sk!lls to pay da bills, on rhymes stars grew, but these two, stay lone
maul for bones, call for tones, sad lives once you look away from phones
lacking chromosomes i feel, ‘n when will our little bet be done for real goldie
backing all that talk all the deal, ever was, scribble through the debt you owe
know, rapping is an art y’all disrespect, lecturing y’all ain’t best, for mental stress
consequential to rest, the heart to y’all don’t exist, its, fake ‘n will persist till y’all actually try
call everything sentimental ‘n take it by the throat, hope you can fix your reputation ‘n pry
your way to being good, not playing hood, while you live in the suburbs, claim you smoke
herbs for decapitation of good, style ‘n words in verse matter, done wit’ this chatter
[outro: wealthmasta]
leave this site, you pathetic losers

- wealthmasta

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