Blue Slide Park (It’s Blue Slide Park, man) Uh (It’s fuckin’ Blue Slide Park)
Hey, I got these Ray-Ban shades Kinda look like somethin’ Lennon would rock It seems like now I got a couple bags whenever I shop Louis shoes, Polo socks, some name brand dumb shit Logo never make a man, but I’m still blowin’ thousands on it No clue what I’m callin’ my album Fans be at my van screamin’, callin’ me Malcolm Never knew the outcome be this much cash now Bank account lookin’ like a George Jung stash house Young and actin’ out, the topics that I rap about Be varyin’ from politics to bitches pullin’ asses out That’s exactly how I do this as a rapper I’m nuttin’ in her mouth, you tongue kissin’ her after Daughters’ moms kinda want me neutered But they also want the kid to cum right on they cooter Have the music soundin’ better than guitar tuners Plus I’m doin’ shows daily, call me Jon Stewart So who you know that’s iller than Mac Miller and company? It’s like I planted money seeds right underneath the fuckin’ tree Now I got a hundred G’s, so none of y’all can fuck with me Yeah, I said it publicly, so run and tell your mother, motherfucker I said run and tell your mother, motherfucker
Hold up, Jerm, let me spit the second
Ayo, I breeze past haters in the E-Class quickly In deep, did a hundred songs and that’s this week Shit keeps goin’ on and on We just tryna go bananas like it’s Donkey Kong Yeah, on my grind, always need to work So I be eatin’ good, you be eatin’ dirt If you talkin’ shit, you gon’ see me smirk While the DJ be scratchin’ ’til the needles burst A couple screws probably loose in my head Holler at my girl, tell her bring that doobie to bed I’m a regular guy with an irregular life Except I’m a Lamborghini if it’s racin’ a bike Who knew that I can turn-turn sound into somethin’ so cool? Fresh kids, see me, I’m bustin’ the moves Comin’ in soon to a theater near you Creep in your kitchen, start eating your food Girls tryna fuck, I don’t be in the mood No time for pussy when money in the room Ooh, I switch flows, switch rhythm Sick spittin’, unlimited ammunition, hey