Sheesh

Sheesh, it’s been a minute Been in my bag Learning random tricks out this mother fucker Words light you up like Bics around this mother fucker Take you 7 games like Chris, Oklahoma Thunder But in the end, we carry rockets bitch I don’t ever miss, lock and load on target bitch Hunt you down, I’m smelling rat Come out the closet snitch You make me vomit Scrubbing stains out the carpet with Brushes, bleach, dirty hands, soap and water This world is ugly so I’m praying Giving hope to daughters You touch women, we going in turning house to slaughters Strapped with wands, you a muggle This ain’t Harry Potter Rap wise, I'm a starter Bitch ain’t made the roster You fucking weak How you softer than some toilet tissue Shut your mouth, not a peep Just avoid the issue Everyday a sneak diss, I don’t fucking get you Cause in my face, ole boy cool as a fan How many songs, how many bars to show you I’m the man To many wrongs To many flaws I’m feeling so abashed I work stupid fast A reason why I tend to crash Never stopping , as a hustler we can’t handle that Forever popping, mixing mints with Coca Cola cans Bro getting dough, flipping Motorola's back Trap phone, throws it out the 96’ corolla The devil on my shoulders Evil in my ear, frustrating I tell em hold up The devil on my shoulders Evil all up in my ear I tell em sheesh Sheesh Bitch I get it every week 6 am, clocking in Y’all be sleep Snapback , toting straps Probably think I’m dough boy Put you up like parade you probably think you float boy Post a pic, comments spammed Goat emojis It’s getting scary, these hours looking very ghostly Spraying H2O on you hoes, this shit is holy Releasing what I want A phenomenal catalogue All these new songs You think it’s raining cats and dogs All these different mics, I eat alive Diana Ross I’m so nice like I'm Minnesota Randy Moss Y’all in a coma, the way y’all be sleeping dawg I’m in a cobra, V8 roar as you hear exhaust Toxic lobby, going hard pissing randoms off I’m the only option, ain’t no way I’m handing off Take it all the way Lamar Jackson, number 8 With the left hand, Michael Vick when we rolling 7s Words leave you feeling sick, you gon have some questions For your doctor and whoever the f*ck take care of you Not a bother when no one even scared of you Pressure stay on my motives Evil in my ear, frustrating I never fold up Devil on my shoulders Evil in my ear frustrating, I never fold up The devil on my shoulders