ULTRA EGO FREESTYLE! lyrics

Part I

[Intro]
Currently in the stu' sipping water
Refreshing
Yeah

[Verse 1]
In her butt like some nicotine
Lemme hit from the back, pus*y bald just like Mr. Clean (Clean)
Feeling stony, no cobble she say that my tunes are so awful, I think that she sick of me
I'ma roll up and hit the weed
Shawty suck on my di*k, but don't know I'ma hit and leave
Maybe I'm a bad person I know that she hurtin', yeah, I really think she was diggin' me
But f*ck it, it's KARMAMØB
We on yo' streets and we poppin' and droppin' the toppa off
If you really want smoke, we can f*ck 'round and go, but just know I might let the choppa off
Put the clip in, gratata, gratata, reload, gratata
Shout out popping up and whipping in the auto shop
Lighting candles for the opps like Hanukkah
I put a f*ck-boy on a T-shirt if he trying to make himself prone
He better duck, boy, 'fore this AR-17 hit him through the skull
Mop us up, boy, they be fightin', wondering how I be staying in that zone
Might just be luck, boy, who am I kidding? All these b*tches know I'm coming for the throne, ayy, yuh
Feel like a motherf*ckin' goddess, been challenging artists to hop on a song
Ever since I was little they knew I was stronger, been f*cking these beats like it's Pornhub.com
I do this for the family, I stay putting on, I do this for my man, tryna buy him a car
I do this for the bands, but it's mostly the art I've been doing it for
Might grab my guitar and seduce all the b*tches around me
My style so motherf*cking clean like some downy
These rappers retarded, they lookin' like downies
I pray one of these rappers wanna f*ck 'round and clown me
I pray one of these rappers wanna f*ck 'round and down me
Put 'em in blunts, I might make me some brownies
I'm covered in water, I think that I'm drowning
Heard you don't like me go get you a bounty, the f*ck out my DM's
[Interlude]
My phone on air plane mode, f*ck-boy tryna roast me
The only thing you roasting is beef, you fat b*tch, stay on my nuts, though, it might get you some clout
I know yo' one-hundred SoundCloud followers havin'-ass needs it
(Damn)

Part II

[Verse 2]
Hit him with that right, left, like the Baby Keem dance
Shoutout rappers I left, only in it for the bands
Tryna get they pipe wet, only in it for the cans
I'ma need a mic check, lemme tell it to the fans
'Cause I know some of them don't really understand it
All these rappers fake, only in it for the brands
Only tryna get paid, they ain't tryna shake hands
And most of these rappers tryin to meet Chris Hansen (Ayo)
Pull out the Glock, have 'em caramel dancin' (Grrrt)
I'm throwing shots, you would think that I'm camping
I pour a shot, got my liver straight cramping
Pull out the chop if the opps still standing
He gon' get rocked I'ma hit him while he candid
I'm on yo' block with a mop doing damage
Shawty give me top in the bottom like a sandwich
Yuh, heard a lil' dude with no clout don't respect me
All these lil' dudes run they mouth, don't effect me
Patek got a wet motherf*cker tryna test me
Hit 'em wit' a strap, sh*t kicking like Messi
I'ma put him in the back, now I'm asking for the check, please
She got red flags, why this b*tch tryna hex me?
Hit it from the back, now I'm hitting up her bestie
I don't wanna rap battle, bruh, that sh*t zesty, yuh (Ew!)