First-person shooter mode
we turnin' your song
to a funeral
to them n**gas that say
they wan' off us
You better be talkin' 'bout
workin' in cubicles
yeah them boys had it locked
but I knew the code
Lot of n**gas debatin'
my numeral not the three
not the two, I'm the U-N-O
yeah
Numero U-N-O
me and Drizzy this s**t
like the Super Bowl
man this s**t damn
near big as the...
Big as the what?
Big as the what?
Big as the what?
Big as the Super Bowl
But the difference is
it's just two guys playin'
s**t that they did in the studio
n**gas usually send their
verses back to me and they
be terrible just like a two-year-old
I love a dinner
with some fine women
when they start debatin'
about who the G.O.A.T
I'm like go 'head, say it then
who the G.O.A.T.?
Who the G.O.A.T.?
Who the G.O.A.T.?
Who the G.O.A.T.?
Who you b**ches
really rootin' for?
Like a kid that act bad
from January to November
n**ga it's just you and Cole
Big as the what?
Big as the what?
Big as the what?
Big as the Super Bowl
n**gas so thirsty
to put me in beef
dissectin' my words
and start lookin' too deep
I look at the tweets
and start suckin' my teeth
I'm lettin' it rock
'cause I love the mystique
I still wanna get me
a song with YB
can't trust everything
that you saw on IG
Just know if I diss you
I'd make sure you know
that I hit you like
I'm on your caller ID
I'm namin' the album
The Fall Off it's pretty ironic
'cause it ain't no fall off for me
Still in this b**ch gettin' bigger
they waitin' on the kid
to come drop
like a father to be
Love when they argue
the hardest MC
Is it K-Dot? Is it Aubrey? Or me?
We the big three like we
started a league, but right now
I feel like Muhammad Ali
Huh, yeah, yeah
Huh-huh, yeah Muhammad Ali
the one that they call
when their s**t ain't
connectin' no more
feel like I got a job in IT
Rhymin' with me
is the biggest mistake
The Spider-Man meme
is me lookin' at Drake
It's like we recruited
your homies to be demon
deacons we got 'em
attending your wake
Hate how the game
got away from the bars
man this s**t
like a prison escape
Everybody steppers
well f**k it then
everybody breakfast
and I'm 'bout to
clear up my plate
When I show up
it's motion picture blockbuster
The G.O.A.T.
with the golden pen
the top toucher
The spot crusher
sprayed his whole s**t up
the crop duster
Not Russia but apply pressure
to your cranium
Cole's automatic
when aimin' 'em
with The Boy in the status
a stadium
I'm 'bout to, I'm 'bout to
I'm 'bout to, yeah
Yeah I'm 'bout to click
out on this s**t
I'm 'bout to click
I'm 'bout to click
out on this s**t
I'm 'bout to click
I'm down to click
down you hoes and
make a crime scene
I click the trigger
on the stick
like a high beam
Man I was Bentley wheel
whippin' when I was 19
she call my number
leave her hangin'
she got dry-cleaned
She got a Android
her messages is lime green
I search one name
and end up seein' 20 tings
Nadine, Christine
Justine, Kathleen, Charlene
Pauline, Claudine
Man I pack 'em in this phone
like some sardines
and they send me
naked pictures
it's the small things
You n**gas still takin'
pictures on a Gulfstream
my youngins richer than
you rappers and they all stream
I really hate that you been
sellin' them some false dreams
man if your pub
was up for sale
I'd buy the whole thing
Will they ever give me flowers?
Well of course not
they don't wanna have that talk
'cause it's a sore spot
they know The Boy
the one they gotta boycott
I told Jimmy Jam
I use a GRAMMY
as a door stop
girl gave me some head
because I need it
And if I f**k with you
then after I might eat it
What?
N**gas talkin' 'bout
when this gon' be repeated
What the f**k bro?
I'm one away from Michael
n**ga, beat it n**ga
beat it what?
Beat it what? Beat it what?
Beat it what? Beat it what?
Beat it what? Beat it what?
Beat it what? Beat it what?
Beat it what? Beat it what?
Beat it, ayy, beat it what?
Don't even pay me back
on none them favours
I don't need it