OH IT'S LIKE THAT? Lyrics

Oh it's like that?

You think I only cap?

Cause I'm a little white boy with his silly raps?

Bitch I do it all myself just like I'm T-Mac

Freestylin' since I came out the sack

Oh it's like that?

Oh you don't write your tracks?

Rich daddy's studio time and now you spit raps?

You come strapped with fake homies in a scatpack,

But you not bout that life, boy you better get back

I don't like the weird fucks that get way too obsessed, or those loud ass white boys that think that they're oppressed

The day I act like that, shoot me in the chest, ?But not the head I need open casket for my mom cause she the best

See I talk all this shit but mentally I'm a mess, been high for two years, my lungs gotta be stressed

Seen too much that I wish I could see less,

Is sight a gift or a curse cause I don't feel blessed?

Like Pac was sayin' I'll keep the money, you can keep the fame

But the pressure part of what would keep me in the game

Work ethic similar to that of Kurt Cobain, that's not a good thing when you don't got the same drugs to blame

Fed up with white hoes that all wanna act the same, all attitude with shitty head, girl you got no shame

I don't want no bad shit sorrounding my name, It's all true anyway so fuck your complaints

I'll never sit here and pretend to be some type of saint

Pretentious queer with a sterling silver chain

Rappin' for a career I know will leave me more insane

But I don't adhere to y'all rules so fuck what you say

Ugh

Give me a year and I'll start makin' racks,

I'm top tier like Reagan distributed crack

I'm right here in case your ass wants to get smacked,

My diamonds stay clear like the paint for Shaq

I hate when the women leave and come crawlin' right back, askin' myself with only one thought still intact

Oh wait, what was it again? I forgot

Oh it's like that?

You think I only cap?

Cause I'm a little white boy with his silly raps?

Bitch I do it all myself just like I'm T-Mac

Freestylin' since I came out the sack

Oh it's like that?

Oh you don't write your tracks?

Rich daddy's studio time and now you spit raps?

You come strapped with fake homies in a scatpack,

But you not bout that life, boy you better get back

You come strapped with fake homies in a scat pack, but you not bout that life, boy you better get back

Who else that you know that's doin' it like me, bitch I got high standards, hoes ain't exciting

it might be the way that I'm movin' so nicely, man these flows and lyrics come so lightly

have these rappers in a musical crisis, my best advice is to make shit that's not so lifeless

Who am I to talk but this ice is, brighter than a gunshot from ISIS, rhetoric devices

when I spit my shit it's timeless

metaphorically who else is the one that I is?

(Nobody)

Designer stores I don't even check the prices, Untrustable to anyone that last line was a lie, bitch

Alright alright, i'm done.