Fuck being friends. You backstabbers. I got hard bars, you snack wrappers. I keep going today and the day after. I am the master preach. I'm not a pastor. I'll pass you back to the future dream team. We the mafia, No juniors. Fuck rumors. Leave knots just like tumors for real ice cream shoes, no good humor. I'm a boomer. You late bloomer, you had a problem. Which you would have said it sooner. King cooper, you can take a dive. No scuba. This is different. We mean business. You mean bitches can catch the biscuit bars of crickets. You're fucking cricket. ***, rapping, rap, check their phone from cricket. You could tell I sip lean. I'm kind of crooked. You counting your life? I'm counting bullets. Don't make me pull it. I'll be on some bullshit. Like I stepped in some bullshit dream team. It's Collomb, frontrunner. Rempel bump bump. I'm the boy drummer. Yeah, let's go vote for me. Like Pedro, this whip all white like mayo, kick you out the league. Like O. J. Mayo O. J. In the bronco going to jail. She don't want to be my friend because she go to Yale, save her like money. Better catch the sale

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