Uh
I'ma need like 88 Coupes
Then send me 20 5ths (December 25th), Baby Jesus
Of that Bourbon, shit at least 88 proof
Get off my Jimmy bitch you fouling (Fallon)
You should play for the Roots
Fuck a chain, new slave on the loose
Alex Haley would have to pay me to write this novel
Patrick Swayze, a black Mercedes
The black Leonardo, you rappers got six fouls
So clear the aisles, I'm the shit with the vowels, bowels
You supposed to hate, I'm difficult to overrate
I'll take over your local state and make 'em disassociate
And ever since I did a mixtape and sampled Gotye
Somebody That U Used To Know
She prolly wanna procreate
She prolly on the Molly
See, she tried to pull my Trojan off
Light-skinned Peter North, Rap game pornostar
Sexing in an intersection, got the game cornered off
Life is a bitch with menopause and I'm her son in law
Exactly who you coming for? Fake orgasms
Tell labels they oughta grab him that n***a is sorta spazzing
88 Coupes had a dream that I bought the Aston
While passing a Jay with Tracy Ellis Ross and Paula Patton
Coke boy fresh you can sniff it in hallway bathrooms
I'm the finest you are minus, you n***as should subtracting
Vicious with the track with the raps he a pure assassin
I'm the rap Bob Ross, paint pictures and autograph 'em
It's a call to action, what the hell are you 'sposed to do
When time is overdue and ain't nobody as dope as you
And lame rappers riding in they Coupe with an open roof
With gold all in they watch, n***a, silence is golden too
Catch ADD on 88 Coupes
86 the track, 80's baby, cadences is crack
88 ki's, every A&R that I came across finna take a loss
Cause this shit is paying off from my work flow
If it say I'm on fire let it burn slow
I'd rather urn (earn) mo'
With 88 Coupes it's hard to find the keys
And I could tell you what I drive
But I'd rather tell you what's driving me
It's Dunson!