Q-NASTY - Melo Lyrics

Nasty has entered the chat and the damn game
Simps high and mighty while they f*ck up the mansplain
Tellin you a grey pork chop is a lamb shank
Ego ain't dead, please jump off the damn plank
Lot of dudes search for excuses for disorderly conduct
Fat with a bat, eyes locked like they John Kruk
Out in public, having to deal with these butt-puppets
So many dudes without tact bracing tough subjects
Jamari and I hit the bar hard
Sunday, 9 AM, head is a barnyard
Pug scowl, three layers, one a them's Carhartt
Waiting for the grill so I can go get my char on
Google Street View Bumf*ck Wyoming
There's a lot of skills that I would like to be honing
Sittin with my sausages, ready to grill
Cause there's certain times in life where you be needing to chill
And then you

Boogie boogie... Boogie boogie
Man, I'm feelin like Melo I wear my hoodie, hoodie
I keep it mellow, mellow, amico bello, bello
We smart like fellows don't be gettin' jealous like we Othello

Ok, I cut a half an onion and start rubbin' the grates
I got a setup with some buns and then a couple a' plates
Assorted condiments and seasonings with reasonings and shit
I guess the eating is a feeling that I really can't omit
So get the charcoal lit - you on the BART, don't sit
Get off at MacArthur and walk a block or six
And then I got you in the backyard, holing up at Apgar
But make a u-turn if you come in trying to act hard
My circle small but malleable
If you're being kind and know what's valuable
You get the family treatment with a tug of the cheek
And the next time I see you I'll give you hug of the week
We can moan about the world's current state of affairs
Indulge in our favorite pastime, complain about chairs
Over wine and some food and we jaw 'til we drop
With a good mixture of mellow and way over the top, that's how to

Boogie boogie... Boogie boogie
Man, I'm feelin like Melo I wear my hoodie, hoodie
I keep it mellow, mellow, amico bello, bello
We smart like fellows, don't be gettin' jealous like we Othello

But I am not your son
Step back, close-talker, gimme oxygen
With no parental guidance I have lots of fun
I drink and smoke alone and then go make a pasta run
Sauce time, we heavy handed, hit arrabbiata TA-TA-TATA-TATA
Invited a couple friends who flakier than BAKLAVA
That's just fine, solitude is godly
At home wearing a fitted like Fernando Rodney bruh
Avoiding shipwrecks, Lusitania
I need reasons to be happy like Melania
Upon the discovery of cannabis in fact
I became a lot less anxious and a little bit more fat
And that's a tradeoff that I'll take 32 days out of 31
Q a filthy human, very nasty, yes a dirty one
He also gets tired and will nod off on the couch
So tuck this little memoir in your kangaroo pouch and shake it