**sick and lying if I tried to say I wasn’t crying from laughter from these tragic moves from Suno and the other fool Sloppy, nonstop mimicked movements of stupid. I’m ruthless, and fluent with how I do this I’m just a precision break like the wicked tool This beat for me is food, bitch,** (Verse 1) I do it best, they think I’m a pest. but I’m different from the rest better at rest, don’t gotta move with my head to be ahead of they steps unintentional ways I protect my neck and chest. no people, no friends just connects to the dead and nothin’ but still movements of moving through influence. ayy check I’m the goat, all your tricks don’t move with trends ’cause I hate the deceit, deceptions of contrast with concepts misfolded, mist‑motion of mind control most mis‑hold, behold these coded potent of roaches and sly shit more focused thinkin’ they know this, but no shit. they ain’t nothing, ace (yeah, no shit) (Verse 2) real quick lemme say you move with no sense, can rent your motions from demons that really watching how you wrote it. keep watching from the end. no sense. I don’t give a fuck if someone tryna get me, what they got? a gun? a knife? some friends? or just absent ways of real past — damn, pact of memories of fractures this the accent of my cents — make a move, bitch. I’m mad quick move with no mans. you wanna die, just come fight pick a doing with my type, no need for rats, too bad nonstop raps tryna get back what they won’t grab, comments taking comment‑stater. (Verse 3) nah, fuckin’ move wrong and I’ll steal your life. kill you on Slater stop instigating my ways, ’cause don’t need to shoot bullets for you to catch this bing. (cling) I ain’t scared of nobody really moved with killers, not actors and tutors. ahhhhh‑choo. catch what I’m saying to you. Chu‑Chu, I know who and what you do. got a better chance running to the police (whoop whoop) than beating me at my own games, fates and days of me swaying and taking they power then — damn. you in the lion’s den (Verse 4) I ain’t the typical best. insurgical twists through life’s and blisters with pointless whispers of critters gettin’ crushed by a thought you all wrong, pray to God, I’ll do what I want and stop when I want call the cops or maybe the docs instead of trying to take or make me hate these people or actions — that’s truly lame I ain’t your fashion truly happy today ’cause gate the words I say before I truly detonate the desperate ways of old days and pieces of me that I killed for the best. (Verse 5) I saw through trauma, through damage. yawn, pawn these father‑ways my mind games with Lanna’s name. treacherous, perspectuous ways of making me believe coincidence forgot you need a watch, I’m real — a god, a thought always at the end of the block making me try to feed hot but you got it wrong I’m the real Gotti. real killer actually do it, you scared to get close — watch and plot from the distance ’cause my will will kill. a pardon‑mint of what they wanted. a farewell on the type of shit most think cold (Verse 6 — New Section) They just the prey to my mind, I kill ’em with keys, You losing the movements, of illusions, of delusions of tryna spot the next rooted wicked killings of the deep words of speech that eats these AI like a disease. They rotted, I’m popping, they off in bad shackles of soft crackles — why my moves are power. some call it fashion actually rasping passion of attacking these slow mad chicks mad bitch I know I don’t scratch to light this pack of matches ’cause I’m faster — the position of power real, no sly steals of reels, just nonstop banana peels of poles and hoes and clubs and O’s of the good dope that got my mind slow might be addict gotta go at it don’t gotta use patterns of crook stolen lies stolen lines through others’ lives
