Classy Cypher 2 ft. A2thaMo & Southern Com4rt Lyrics

I said a-wop-bop-a-loo-bop-a-lot bamboo

There's nothing on the track these rappers can't do

A-wop-bop-a-loo-bop-a-lot bamboo

There is nothing on the track these producers can't do

A-wop-bop-a-loo-bop-a-lot bamboo

There is nothing on the track ABCs can't do

I was born a jerk, adorned 2 horns when I was born on Earth

Formed a curse, Told my mom shoulda read the warning first

Smokin' cigarettes and weed now to calm my nerves

Not sure if caffeine helps or makes it worse

Used to be on that fiend route but I got out

Only got addicted so I got somethin' to rap about

Besides me and your girl, playin' cat and mouse like Tom and Jerry

Only fucked her mouth 'cause her bottom hairy

Now we rap like our lifes at stake

Stay cookin', lookin' far and wide but can't find a break

Get high and feel behind all day

Even though we put the work in, nothins perfect the entire way

Out-rap you any time or day

Only got the plays 'cause you suckin' dick all day on your Twitter page

I keep it you real you bitches been some fakes

You can block me but you sure as hell won't stop me, you're just in the way

It's A2thaMo, and I'm here to say

I smoke weed, make beats like ev-fuckin'day

I'm such a slacker, but I do so much

My beats are so fruity, that's why this shit punch

Your girl wanna do me, excuse me, that's just a hunch

Eatin' pussy, call it lunch, sorry, say it a bunch

I like cunts, mean bitches, rap how everyone else sucks

And just see how my self-esteem fixes

On beats I'm ignorant, ain't tryin' to hear it

When you flow with the wind, you ain't gotta steer it

Got a bong scheduled next, and I'm bout to clear it

If you think you at our level, bet you nowhere near it

If you think you at our level, bet you nowhere near it

Hearin' this gotta flow like nonstop periods

If it's that time of the month, I need some slop-top serious

While I'm smokin' somethin' louder than Presbyterians

Like y'all ain't hearin' this, like we speakin' in tongues

But should I fear shit, bitch, I ain't seein' one

A bunch of pussies, at least some, your girl let me see some

Now we call a bowling ball, cause when we call, we get to use all three at once

That's so dumb, I know I go stupid

When your song comes on, I just know it gets muted

I feel like the Fonz, yeah, Moe is the coolest

I'm so chill like a Buddhist, but still know how to do this

Oh, I like this right here, this got a lot of class

But I might need to talk a little trash, might even need to show my ass

BXC, A to the Moe, what up, it's SoCo

Last time was the juke joint

But this time, we gon' hit him with the true points

Hollow tip spit, when we rhyme, it's not for retorts or retweets

We just represent what we see

Real life is for the real, not the reels you see on IG

Mama said I was special all my life, see

That sentiment transferred over to my wifey

I'm too hot, you can't ice me

I'm too cool, can't be flustered

I cum slow into her pastry like custard

No clue who I have bludgeoned, I must be Colonel Mustard

So coatin' the parlor with the ranch, what's that stench

Must be bad plumbing

Every rapper not with us has a weak stomach

And when they cookin' on the track, it's easy bake oven

We soul food, brother, I know you love us

Our styles, you covet, our stats, you want em

Rappers and producers all behind, so they frontin'

I read what they said, and it translates to nothin'

Bluffin', they muffin', stuffin', they just air to me

Boy, I'm a king, you are not heir to me

At all