SKINNY (RAW) lyrics

by

Big Sean


{Verse}
Wuanton, yeah!
Time to skin your hide
Like I'm part of an Indian tribe
Yeah, all these punchlines
Gonna hit you up, uh
Having a tough life
Having a rough time
I'm out of tune
Well I don't need you dude
I don't need you dude
Stop f*cking with me, ooh
You a clown, you ain't in this town
And then I go about, and then I go
Around town, going down town
He got Downy Syndrome
Eat some brownies, will ya
Uh, yeah, all these pills will kill ya
When it catches up to you
And be not giving a hundred percent
I be mumbling, uh
Deh, deh, dey, deuh, deuh, duh
I doe knoe wa I 'eem sayun, uh
You sound autistic with the b*tch
Whose sticking her di*k into every single
Thick b*tch, so thick, ass so thick
But the c*m is so sticky, c'mon
What the f*ck, man?
Uh, yeah, you know how you whine
Ya dumb ass, bum ass,you-know-what-I'm-saying
You a chump, like
You a chump like Trump
Yeah, f*cking body dump
Just dumb, you dumb, yeah
You can suck my trumpet
My f*cking saggy ass balls
I know you love it!
So I rub it in your face
Oh that's so gay!
What you say man?
Bae's so glass-ayyy!

{Interlude}
I'm so classy
I'm so snazzy
I'm so jazzy
And you think I'd play for you
Ooh, no man, I be spazzing like

{Verse}
Hayward when he broke
His ankles on the f*cking court
That one day versus the Cavaliers
I was so cavalier, aye
Oh, f*ck the shamrocks
Unless it's Shammah then
We're f*cking jamming to this beat
Yeah, who gives a damn about what you think, uh
I'm f*cking beating everybody up, yeah, uh
Yeah, aye
I remember Young X the other day
TRIPPLEDOT, whatever you call him, Jensen Murray
Got in my face, tried to bury her fangs
His fangs, into my little face, oh, aye
What the f*ck, man, with these empty threats
From Sam Milne, you've got a million of those!
Uh, bouncing with everybody around town
Like, Oh My God, I'm the Real Slim Shady!!!
Yeah? Just because your hair is blonde
Doesn't mean you're such a Rap God
That face is wrong
Uh, I take it wrong that
You f*cking say this song, like
I'm a f*cking Trash God, I'm a Trash God
Not a Rap God, yeah, Marshall Mathers
Oh yeah, Em, would be proud of me
If I said that on stage
This tall ass baby, won't stop
Talking about sh*t, man, buck toothed b*tch
Bet you can't make any bucks off your tooth
'Cause you're f*cking cheap, oof
That, that's f*cking truth
And the proof, that's the evidence
Yeah, you can call me a heretic, man
But that's not my rhetoric, yeah

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