Lời bài hát First Person Shooter - I6O9IKJO
First-person shooter mode
We turnin' your song to a funeral
To them niggas that say they wan' off us
You better be talkin' 'bout workin' in cubicles
Yeah them boys had it locked
But I knew the code
Lot of niggas debatin' my numeral
Not the three not the two
I'm the U-N-O
Yeah
Numero U-N-O
Me and Drizzy this shit like the Super Bowl
Man this shit damn near big as the
Big as the what
Big as the what
Big as the what
Big as the Super Bowl
But the difference is it's
Just two guys playin' shit
That they did in the studio
Niggas usually send they verses back to me
And they be terrible
Just like a two-year-old
I love a dinner with some fine women
When they start debatin' about who the G.O.A.T
I'm like go on 'head
Say it then who the G.O.A.T.
Who the G.O.A.T.
Who the G.O.A.T.
Who the G.O.A.T.
Who you bitches really rootin' for
Like a kid that act bad
From January to November nigga
It's just you and Cole
Big as the what
Big as the what
Big as the what
Big as the Super Bowl
Niggas so thirsty to put me in beef
Dissectin' my words
And start lookin' too deep
I look at the tweets
And start suckin' my teeth
I'm lettin' it rock 'cause I love the mystique
I still wanna get me a song with YB
Can't trust everything that you saw on IG
Just know if I diss you
I'd make sure you know
That I hit you like
I'm on your caller ID
I'm namin' the album The Fall Off
It's pretty ironic
'cause it ain't no fall off for me
Still in this bitch gettin' bigger
They waitin' on the kid
To come drop like a father to be
Love when they argue the hardest MC
Is it K-Do Is it Aubrey Or me
We the big three like we started a league
But right now
I feel like Muhammad Ali
Huh yeah yeah huh-huh
Yeah Muhammad Ali
The one that they call
When they shit ain't connectin' no more
Feel like I got a job in IT
Rhymin' with me is the biggest mistake
The Spider-Man meme
Is me lookin' at Drake
It's like we recruited your homies
To be demon deacons
We got 'em attending your wake
Hate how the game got away
From the bars man
This shit like a prison escape
Everybody steppers well fuck it
Then everybody breakfast
And I'm 'bout to clear up my plate
When I show up
It's motion picture blockbuster
The G.O.A.T. with the golden pen
The top toucher
The spot rusher sprayed his whole shit up
The crop duster
Not Russia but apply pressure
To your cranium
Cole's automatic when aimin' 'em
With The Boy in the status a stadium
Ayy I'm 'bout to I'm 'bout to
I'm 'bout to yeah
Yeah
I'm 'bout to click out on this shit
I'm 'bout to click whoa
I'm 'bout to click out on this shit
I'm 'bout to click whoa
I'm down to click down you hoes
And make a crime scene
I click the trigger on the stick
Like a high beam
Man I was Bentley wheel whippin'
When I was 19
She call my number
Leave her hangin' she got dry-cleaned
She got a Android
Her messages is lime green
I search one name
And end up seein' 20 tings
Nadine Christine Justine
Kathleen Charlene Pauline Claudine
Man I pack 'em in this phone like some sardines
And they send me naked pictures
It's the small things
You niggas still takin' pictures on a Gulfstream
My youngins richer
Than you rappers and they all stream
I really hate that you been sellin'
Them some false dreams
Man if your pub was up for sale
I buy the whole thing
Will they ever give me flowers
Well of course not
They don't wanna have that talk
'cause it's a sore spot
They know The Boy
The one they gotta boycott
I told Jimmy Jam
I use a GRAMMY as a door stop
Girl gave me some head
Because I need it
And if I fuck with you
Then after I might eat it what
Niggas talkin' 'bout
When this gon' be repeated
What the fuck bro
I'm one away from Michael
Nigga beat it nigga beat it what
Beat it what
Beat it what
Beat it what
Beat it what
Beat it what
Beat it what
Beat it what
Beat it what
Beat it what
Beat it what
Beat it ayy beat it what
Don't even pay me
Back on none them favors
I don't need it
First-person shooter mode
We turnin' your song to a funeral
To them niggas that say they wan' off us
You better be talkin' 'bout workin' in cubicles
Yeah them boys had it locked
But I knew the code
Lot of niggas debatin' my numeral
Not the three not the two
I'm the U-N-O
Yeah
Numero U-N-O
Me and Drizzy this shit like the Super Bowl
Man this shit damn near big as the
Big as the what
Big as the what
Big as the what
Big as the Super Bowl
But the difference is it's
Just two guys playin' shit
That they did in the studio
Niggas usually send they verses back to me
And they be terrible
Just like a two-year-old
I love a dinner with some fine women
When they start debatin' about who the G.O.A.T
I'm like go on 'head
Say it then who the G.O.A.T.
Who the G.O.A.T.
Who the G.O.A.T.
Who the G.O.A.T.
Who you bitches really rootin' for
Like a kid that act bad
From January to November nigga
It's just you and Cole
Big as the what
Big as the what
Big as the what
Big as the Super Bowl
Niggas so thirsty to put me in beef
Dissectin' my words
And start lookin' too deep
I look at the tweets
And start suckin' my teeth
I'm lettin' it rock 'cause I love the mystique
I still wanna get me a song with YB
Can't trust everything that you saw on IG
Just know if I diss you
I'd make sure you know
That I hit you like
I'm on your caller ID
I'm namin' the album The Fall Off
It's pretty ironic
'cause it ain't no fall off for me
Still in this bitch gettin' bigger
They waitin' on the kid
To come drop like a father to be
Love when they argue the hardest MC
Is it K-Do Is it Aubrey Or me
We the big three like we started a league
But right now
I feel like Muhammad Ali
Huh yeah yeah huh-huh
Yeah Muhammad Ali
The one that they call
When they shit ain't connectin' no more
Feel like I got a job in IT
Rhymin' with me is the biggest mistake
The Spider-Man meme
Is me lookin' at Drake
It's like we recruited your homies
To be demon deacons
We got 'em attending your wake
Hate how the game got away
From the bars man
This shit like a prison escape
Everybody steppers well fuck it
Then everybody breakfast
And I'm 'bout to clear up my plate
When I show up
It's motion picture blockbuster
The G.O.A.T. with the golden pen
The top toucher
The spot rusher sprayed his whole shit up
The crop duster
Not Russia but apply pressure
To your cranium
Cole's automatic when aimin' 'em
With The Boy in the status a stadium
Ayy I'm 'bout to I'm 'bout to
I'm 'bout to yeah
Yeah
I'm 'bout to click out on this shit
I'm 'bout to click whoa
I'm 'bout to click out on this shit
I'm 'bout to click whoa
I'm down to click down you hoes
And make a crime scene
I click the trigger on the stick
Like a high beam
Man I was Bentley wheel whippin'
When I was 19
She call my number
Leave her hangin' she got dry-cleaned
She got a Android
Her messages is lime green
I search one name
And end up seein' 20 tings
Nadine Christine Justine
Kathleen Charlene Pauline Claudine
Man I pack 'em in this phone like some sardines
And they send me naked pictures
It's the small things
You niggas still takin' pictures on a Gulfstream
My youngins richer
Than you rappers and they all stream
I really hate that you been sellin'
Them some false dreams
Man if your pub was up for sale
I buy the whole thing
Will they ever give me flowers
Well of course not
They don't wanna have that talk
'cause it's a sore spot
They know The Boy
The one they gotta boycott
I told Jimmy Jam
I use a GRAMMY as a door stop
Girl gave me some head
Because I need it
And if I fuck with you
Then after I might eat it what
Niggas talkin' 'bout
When this gon' be repeated
What the fuck bro
I'm one away from Michael
Nigga beat it nigga beat it what
Beat it what
Beat it what
Beat it what
Beat it what
Beat it what
Beat it what
Beat it what
Beat it what
Beat it what
Beat it what
Beat it ayy beat it what
Don't even pay me
Back on none them favors
I don't need it
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