B.M.F. lyrics

Unhhhhhh
It's like sounding like I just had a stroke
Unhhhh

(We smoked it all!)

[Chorus]
They think I'm Slim Shady, Asher Roth
Keep judgin', Hasslehoff
I hang with trees, McIntosh
I made another track, you were jackin' off

They think I'm Slim Shady, Asher Roth
Keep judgin', Hasslehoff
I hang with trees, McIntosh
I made another track, you were jackin' off

[Verse 1]
No tard on the mic, go hard, boner-like make tracks that you get mad at
Smilin', makin' hits like domestic violence, where the motherf*ckin' stepdads at?
Right here if you're where I'm from, we never wanna do what our parents done
Mine smoked weed, I got a pair of blunts so I guess I'm a hypocrite a little bit drunk
Bro go adjust to me, front for a month then f*cks with me
I'm in a whip with a chick got drugs with me, and I spit it and admit that publicly
Ever quit that sh*t it'll be reluctantly, got a list of the villains that I must defeat
And my life just changed so abrupt-a-ly, but I'm alive and I'm twenty-five luckily
Cause I'm Spose (Spose motherf*cka), glorious
Still doin' work, laborious
The Audacity, f*ck yes!
I'm monumental, I'm statuesque


[Chorus]
They think I'm Slim Shady, Asher Roth
Keep judgin', Hasslehoff
I hang with trees, McIntosh
I made another track, you were jackin' off

They think I'm Slim Shady, Asher Roth
Keep judgin', Hasslehoff
I hang with trees, McIntosh
I made another track, you were jackin' off

[Verse 2]
MCs got beef like a bistro, hate or relate to the people
Every time I preach get my priest on, mics I'm a beast on, Nissan whip it like Devo
And I don't sell kilos, and me on the line's kinda like Ray Allen with the free throws
And I don't do the dougie or the j*rk when I lurk on a verse doin' work, Home Depot
Or Lowes (Lowes), Spose (Spose)
Little bit of weed spittin' trees where the green grass grows (Grows) so (so)
That's how I think you are on the mic, you blow (blow) oh (no)
Got Nathan on my neck and wrist no (ho) mo (bro) go
Keep j*rkin' off to my pho-tos
I'm awesome, f*ckin sexcellent
Your sh*t's week, excrement
That kid Spose, gotta hand it to
He still kills it, Van der Sloot