Empty Thoughts Lyrics

Yo, what up, what up, it's Andy Kapps

And uh, this is Empty Thoughts

It's not because my thoughts are empty at all

I'm just emptying my thoughts

Tooly on deck, like a hammer on a balcony

Pretty schizophrenic, I got microphones surrounding me

Feel a little paranoid from the THC

And I'll keep on spitting fire till I get on TMZ

Hopefully it's Worldstar, my whip look like your girl car

Looking pretty fine, man, I don't need a passport

I used to write my rhymes in high school, stuff them in my Jansport

I whoop they ass on top of that, I treat them like a poor sport

Snore, sure, every bar I spit I feel is critical

The work you putting in seems minimal

I'm taking a tablet like a kindle

Smoke a little weed, drink a little alcohol

But money's what I need, coming through like new teeth

All about the paper, like loose leaf

Puff, puff, pass it like Drew Brees

Crack flow, bitch, like under your shoe strings

Goddamn, why these boys pissed at me? These girls just wanna kiss on me

I'm thinking with my dick and I'm about to lose my dignity

Chilling with my bitch and she sucking on my brigantine

And when she think I'm done, she gargle like it's Listerine

Diamonds glowing like it's nicotine

Pinky rings shining like a motherfucking Krispy Kreme

You can get a shot and I ain't talking bout Jimmy Beam

I'm a fucking titan, I ain't never been to Tennessee

I'm the fucking dopest, hocus pocus

I just run this game like local DJ Karaokes

About to crash the party like a Ninja Turtle with a box of pizza and anchovies

Abe Lincoln's, Five o's watch me

Walkie-talkie, now I'm talking back, I'm getting cocky

So they checking out my neck and wrist and saying that I'm looking like I'm hockey

And it's funny, it's true

They can't stop me, so I'm getting money

Wayne Gretzky, two middle fingers up

Fuck anybody, go against me

Pockets deep like they eight foot

Money coming, money going

Na I tell it, stay put

Jab, cross, hook, going hard like a textbook

Call yourself players and you playing how the Jets look

I'm playing how the best should

Joe Montana, Jerry Rice

Andy Kapps I do it nice

Bout that paper like white on rice

Nah, I'm a fiend for the green

Let me get my cream

Dollar, dollar bill, y'all

Chuck the deuce out the limousine before I kill y'all

Long live the chief

We accomplishing the dream, I achieve

I just make it happen

I'm the big captain

All these paydays stacking with this rapping

And this fucking rocking, hip hopping

Third shift, empty thoughts

You playing possum