I'm Good - Termanology, Michael Christmas, Stro

I said squaaaaad the fuck up

Hit my nigga, tell him pull the truck up

Finna fuck that bitch that said I couldn’t do it, actin' stuck up

My niggas put the drugs up, we used to put our lunch up

Bettin' on the Pokémon battle or wrestling matches

Foggy glasses, I step off the stage, proceed to laugh

How I get this far?

Give a year, how you get this cough?

Seventh grade, how you get them bars?

I am confused, I hate these dudes that ask questions

Leather pants kickin' birds out feather vans

Watch quadruple Ks, Keenan, Kel and Kim Kardashian

And fucked her man, and fuck your fans, and fuck your friends

I’m with some old bitches tryna fuck again

Cause I’m a different nigga, I got a different plan

Tomorrow never promised me nothin' but bein' broke

And all I ever wanted was extra sleep and some dome

While y’all fad follow, I’m tryna up my dough

Such a star, I’d probably get boo’d at the Apollo

I spit sick swallow, then dro’d up

I know when you know I’m pullin' cards like Uno

Crew so real that we ain’t gotta deal

Long as the block think it’s hot then we got mass appeal

Put a fork in the pitch and if y’all ain’t with it, we ain’t bitchin'

Some only feel the heat when it’s money in the kitchen

Rippin' tracks like it’s for my freedom

The don, what you thought, y’all could beat him?

If rap’s a sport, I like Derülo

Sharp like a vato, lines over your culo

I kick shit 'til the flavor is good

Y’all spit rich shit but still live in the hood

I don’t own leather pants, never dance

The Nae Nae’s a no no, I might hit the Shmoney on the low though

It’s the sultan, sittin' on the throne made of diamonds

Polyester robe with the linen in the linin'

Gold microphone trap the words I’m designin'

Your girl give emoji red hearts when I’m rhymin'

Helicopter rise with my Js swingin' in the wind

If I’ma make it rain, it’s for the kids in the tenements

We givin' out turkeys in the winter

Rap Robin Hood, make sure every lil' kid get a dinner

The Mustang peel out, smoke like 9−11

Rhymin' legend, time again and time again the comp is shredded

Feelin' like Kane in '87, the greatest ever

Grew up in the '90s, to me that was the greatest era

Give me a mic, some turntables and some speakers

For me it’s like a fully packed church to the preacher

Knowledge reigns supreme, 'Ology the new teacher

And I brought some new killers with me rhymin' on the features

Jesus