The Classifieds - Firing Squad (feat. Stakes)

Who going harder than me
The more I drink, the more she look like Cardi to me
The more I think, the more I see I'm Parker, the pete
Or more like Miles Morales when I'm starting the beat
A lot of problems often seem to start with a tweet
But rarely do you see them end with chalk in the street
But I've been known to pull some rare astonishing feats
Consult with Jiminy Cricket 'fore you're talking to me
Cause I'm a fucking dog like a monopoly piece
You squash the beef with me and that's a Harvard degree
I need a little recognition
Cause bitch I'm tired of being humble in a dead position
We on the rise, never need a label head permission
And to be honest, I am worried that the feds'll listen
Because I'm cooking crack music till the edges crisping
I been speaking facts truly but you tend miss it
So just run it back, Dewey, or it's Malcolm missing
Bitch I'm smoking dat gooey, all my buds are glistening
Got you staring down a barrel like it's tunnel vision
Got you glaring my apparel cuz your funds are missing
Bitch
I'm struggling to put it into words
I can't find the nouns nor the verbs
Or the constenants to sum up how I'm trying to be heard
This my third year spitting, couple views on the verse
And I've only had the free bread, the mains and deserts
And starters are yet to come
Bitch I'm hungry with a thirst for success
And the blood of the weak so Imma work till I'm burnt out
It's either the fame or it's a hearse
Half the shit I say gets redacted
Bodies in the bathtub, caustic reaction
Saran Wrap rappers and take em to the pasture
I'm really just a young, bold and brash lil bastard
You collecting Kohl's Cash, man that's kinda tragic
I be with a model bitch getting my ass licked
Ayo Chris, why they rapping bout they last lick
No antenna on the whip but where the fuck the static
It's a heart attack what I spent up on my Patek
But it's a beaut
Spam caller blowing up my gadget prolly driving a UTE
I can spit this shit for hours, it ain't nothing to do
Got the squad behind me like totally dude
I party like a rockstar, no guitar
I took ya bitch to dinner
We pull up to Little Caesars
That five dollar pep put some pep in her step
Till I take her to the crib
Put some dick on her breath
It's D
I'm struggling to put it into words
I can't find the nouns nor the verbs
Or the consonants to sum up how I'm trying to be heard
This my third year spitting, couple views on the verse
And I've only had the free bread, the mains and deserts
And starters are yet to come
Bitch I'm hungry with a thirst for success
And the blood of the weak so Imma work till I'm burnt out
It's either the fame or it's a hearse
Everyday a dilemma that has no real reaction
Everybody just chill turn it down just a fraction
You pissing me off
Why are we interacting
If money is time then right now you are subtracting
My potential for making the bands
Or growing the audience to make a couple of fans
Cause uh I don't know if Imma stay here too long
It's one of them, they always say you're soon gone
Right now while I'm walking, talking all my shit
And I'm not forty or fucked tryna raise four kids
All bout money and sluts and gettin tunes sorted
I can count blessings up when I'm on the Forbes list
Right now it's kinda hard to keep smiling
When a drink i wanna dive in
But then everything I'm tryna do
Keeps spiraling and I'm losing focus
But Imma spit magic bitch
Hocus pocus

Written by:
Chris Dubois, Zachary McMullen

Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

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