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letra de child's play - zyon maye

[verse 1]
p-ssy n-gga, get in the field, b-tches still can’t hit the left lane
she wanna play chess, but the b-tch can’t even check mate
wanna go against me but the b-tch can’t even check me
hoes wanna take the quiz, but her ass can never test me
you can’t f-ck with me, b-tch, even on ya worst day
i don’t got no bots, my sh-t be on replay
bow down to the sword, b-tch, i’m your f-ckin’ sensei
and i’m peggin’ these n-ggas like we in the f-ckin’ uk
likе a booger in her nose, b-tchеs know not to pick with me
you not apart of our table, b-tch, you cannot come sit with me
say you livin’ my dream, but you lookin’ about fifty
you all about your money, but your racks really on mini-me’s

[chorus]
this is child’s play, b-tch, orange bob to f-ck the world up
i got a toast for these b-tches, so put your f-ckin’ cups up
he tryna f-ck on ol’ girl, but she told me you was uncut
but the doc’ is in office, so let’s get your ass a check up

[verse 2]
say you got the versatility but don’t have the ability
you b-tches are my daughters, yeah, i got a bunch of mini me’s
i’m the best b-tch around so you cannot come get rid of me
and that’s word to mrs. minaj, b-tch, i’m the one and only
i got these b-tches pushin’ pens but they still not on they writer sh-t
it’s their not there, ho, you not on your writer sh-t
quit your career while you can ’cause you is not a writer b-tch
surrounded by these fat-ass stacks, yet i’m still on my lighter sh-t
hoes obsessed with me, on my mc tip
b-tches wait for me to drop, grab they pens for tips
b-tch, you argue over n-ggas, ho, get a grip
and i’m busy stackin’ bread while you b-tches stackin’ chips
b-tch, need to leave me alone, you my son, you a clone
i don’t do much of the talkin’, b-tch, i’ll get you gone like al capone
i’m sittin’ on my throne, your n-ggas on a tombstone
all these hoes lookin’ for me like find my f-ckin’ iphone
yeah, i’m on that n-gga roaster but we will never f-ck again
b-tch, we don’t look alike so why you callin’ me yo’ twin?
rap b-tch, popstar in the makin’
and you don’t got no brain so why the f-ck you thinkin’?
i break down my f-ckin’ bars, decomposer
b-tch, why you actin’ out? keep your composer
all these fake-ass marys, you a poser
and my fans comin’ to me like they want a photo
[chorus]
this is child’s play, b-tch, orange bob to f-ck the world up
i got a toast for these b-tches, so put your f-ckin’ cups up
he tryna f-ck on ol’ girl, but she told me you was uncut
but the doc’ is in office, so let’s get your ass a check up

[outro]
so let’s get your ass a check up
ugh, yo
z-y-o-n maye

- zyon maye

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