1 for the honies
2 for the stitches
3 for thirst trappin IG bitches
Dedicated to those who lost their religion
With soda on the stove, and they whipping in the kitchen
Every tick you hear is a tally to the body count
Pound for pound, you can't even drop an ounce
In between sheets like the beef in the rye
Imma Superman that hoe
Like a Sky High alumni
Bitch when I'm not high, I'm off Bacardi
Gonna upgrade soon to the XO remy
All eyes on me
I call my own parlay
Like a weekend draft
I can go all day
No I ain't Lotto and no I ain't Randy
And I'm still too young to be called 21
Yet everything I do
Is so f*cking savage
When u see my face
You just see static
Ooo you think you hot shit huh
Pussy ass nigga
Lemme see u run it again
Bet you can't do it again yo
Alright put him back in
And I feel so amazing
Left paper trails to set em ablazing
And I hate when niggas are calling me lazy
Cuz I'm on the clock like I'm driving Miss Daisy
But I feel so fantastic (fantastic)
Y'all haven't suffered my pain or passion
It's really your boy who's truly snappin
He's on the stage directing the traffic (because)
I am the nigga who turns up the bass
Who looks at your boyfriend
And spits on his face
Who arnold presses yo bitch's waist
Then Batista bombs and grabs a taste
Mattress be looking like all the Great Lakes
Going Medieval eating game no steak
Back to when it was all about destiny
Back to when it was all about fate
Huh not bad not bad I guess
Not the best I can say but, definitely not the worst
Well try to finish strong, alright big boy?
It pays to be the playmaker
Hit them with the haymaker
2 to the left, then stick em with the right
I ain't sympathetic, so it's fight or flight
The soul of a saint with the hair of a giant
I'm too damn clever for the early retirement
I'm gonna end this joint like an NFL prospect
Too jacked up and domestically violent
MTHOM - Instagram Models Lyrics
MTHOM - Instagram Models Lyrics
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1 for the honies
2 for the stitches
3 for thirst trappin IG bitches
Dedicated to those who lost their religion
With soda on the stove, and they whipping in the kitchen
Every tick you hear is a tally to the body count
Pound for pound, you can't even drop an ounce
In between sheets like the beef in the rye
Imma Superman that hoe
Like a Sky High alumni
Bitch when I'm not high, I'm off Bacardi
Gonna upgrade soon to the XO remy
All eyes on me
I call my own parlay
Like a weekend draft
I can go all day
No I ain't Lotto and no I ain't Randy
And I'm still too young to be called 21
Yet everything I do
Is so f*cking savage
When u see my face
You just see static
Ooo you think you hot shit huh
Pussy ass nigga
Lemme see u run it again
Bet you can't do it again yo
Alright put him back in
And I feel so amazing
Left paper trails to set em ablazing
And I hate when niggas are calling me lazy
Cuz I'm on the clock like I'm driving Miss Daisy
But I feel so fantastic (fantastic)
Y'all haven't suffered my pain or passion
It's really your boy who's truly snappin
He's on the stage directing the traffic (because)
I am the nigga who turns up the bass
Who looks at your boyfriend
And spits on his face
Who arnold presses yo bitch's waist
Then Batista bombs and grabs a taste
Mattress be looking like all the Great Lakes
Going Medieval eating game no steak
Back to when it was all about destiny
Back to when it was all about fate
Huh not bad not bad I guess
Not the best I can say but, definitely not the worst
Well try to finish strong, alright big boy?
It pays to be the playmaker
Hit them with the haymaker
2 to the left, then stick em with the right
I ain't sympathetic, so it's fight or flight
The soul of a saint with the hair of a giant
I'm too damn clever for the early retirement
I'm gonna end this joint like an NFL prospect
Too jacked up and domestically violent
2 for the stitches
3 for thirst trappin IG bitches
Dedicated to those who lost their religion
With soda on the stove, and they whipping in the kitchen
Every tick you hear is a tally to the body count
Pound for pound, you can't even drop an ounce
In between sheets like the beef in the rye
Imma Superman that hoe
Like a Sky High alumni
Bitch when I'm not high, I'm off Bacardi
Gonna upgrade soon to the XO remy
All eyes on me
I call my own parlay
Like a weekend draft
I can go all day
No I ain't Lotto and no I ain't Randy
And I'm still too young to be called 21
Yet everything I do
Is so f*cking savage
When u see my face
You just see static
Ooo you think you hot shit huh
Pussy ass nigga
Lemme see u run it again
Bet you can't do it again yo
Alright put him back in
And I feel so amazing
Left paper trails to set em ablazing
And I hate when niggas are calling me lazy
Cuz I'm on the clock like I'm driving Miss Daisy
But I feel so fantastic (fantastic)
Y'all haven't suffered my pain or passion
It's really your boy who's truly snappin
He's on the stage directing the traffic (because)
I am the nigga who turns up the bass
Who looks at your boyfriend
And spits on his face
Who arnold presses yo bitch's waist
Then Batista bombs and grabs a taste
Mattress be looking like all the Great Lakes
Going Medieval eating game no steak
Back to when it was all about destiny
Back to when it was all about fate
Huh not bad not bad I guess
Not the best I can say but, definitely not the worst
Well try to finish strong, alright big boy?
It pays to be the playmaker
Hit them with the haymaker
2 to the left, then stick em with the right
I ain't sympathetic, so it's fight or flight
The soul of a saint with the hair of a giant
I'm too damn clever for the early retirement
I'm gonna end this joint like an NFL prospect
Too jacked up and domestically violent
Writer: Matthew Thompson
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid