100 Words And Running lyrics

[Intro]
Let's go (Peter Parker)
Big shouts to EST, dream team
Machine Gun Kelly, you already know (Kells)
100 words and running baby
Cleveland, what up?

[Machine Gun Kelly]
I do this, b*tch
Come on
Come on
Come on
Yeah
What I tell these people?

[Verse 1]
Uh
Coming out the bottom of the motherf*cking totem pole
Calling everyone who ain't believe like "I told them hoes"
Now they on my scrotum though
And I've been grinding so long it's like I gotta blow
Baby mama calling up my phone, what the f*ck you want
Cause I don't owe nobody sh*t stop askin'
Haters get off of my di*k, stop gaggin'
They know I'm schooling them, they tell me stop classin'
We already know that you the sh*t stop gassin'
Eugh, and my flow is f*cking sick dog
Make a b*tch cough like a sick dog
Prolly cause I spit raw
No f*cking with this boy
Other rappers more uncool than when the fridge off
Damn I think my lid's off, more mental then Sig Freud
Mind like a mother f*cking-unsolvable jigsaw
People ask my audience "what you listen him for?"
sh*t..cause I don't think Lil Wayne's come this hard
My God, then what that mean
Since I ain't son to nobody, then I must be king
c*cky with it, cause I know that can't nobody stop me with it
Wanna try? be ready to die, Kamikaze with it
f*ck a prince, I know I'm the real sh*t ya dig
Cause ain't no-mother-f*cking-body done the sh*t I did
I'm the man where I'm from, but they call me the kid
Give me the crown cause if not then we taking that b*tch
Mother f*cker
[Verse 2]
100 words and running, 100 rappers that I ate still in my stomach
And 100 other coming, hustling for one-hundred a-hundreds
I don't give a f*ck what you say, give me my money
Not college educated, but I can count a sh*t load
Connected like a constellation I can get you shipped more
Boy I do numbers with these verses check the info
I'm Machine Gun Kelly what the f*ck's a pistol
What the f*ck's a white flag
What the f*ck's a price tag
What the f*ck is beef? f*ck it show me where's the mic's at
I will tear each one of them mother f*ckers a nice ass
No homo cause we don't get di*ked, we ain't like that
Nah b*tch, should've hollered at me before
Cause "f*ck you pay me" is now my steelo
And that goes for promoters, for the shows
For the verses, for the hoes
For the labels, what you owe
b*tch, give me my dough
I'm the big baller, shot caller of my age
19-year old Dwayne Wade
And the Eastside on my back, no matter what they weigh
Cleveland's number 23 like I ain't know Lebron played
So what's up to all my fans who held me down since day one
Telling them Kells' the hardest that they come
Gave the real what they want and I did that
So come and blow a blunt with your boy, give it here let me split that
And I bet they won't forget that
Cause rappers forgot how to be real
Forgot how they used to be before the deal
But I remember still
That's why I'm not a member of fame
Just raw talent who remembers the game
And the name, Kells
[Outro]
[?] Mr. Peter Parker dot com
[?] cosign in the Midwest
I'm jumping on a tape, it's crazy