NoPhilter - Bad Guy

Yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah
No surprise I'm the bad guy
No lies, always fly an you on standby
You're super sized magpie, eating bad fries
Giving bad vibes, looking at me like your man died
Yeah yeah, you're super mad that I can't die
Always on the come up, I don't even have to down size
down 5, 4th quarter but you know I'm that guy
Put me in the game, when that bitch needs some "act-right"

Never thought I would amount to shit
Now I'm out to get, every counterfeit friend
With a mouth so big, it's spilling out some shit
I've got some Charmin for that ass
Now Sit down ya prick, wipe your mouth lips
And flush it when your done, before you house gets hit
Fuck convincing every body that your man can spit
I'd rather snatch your bitch an get your baby momma
Showing off her ass and tits
On her knees, on a screen like Colin Kapernick
Yup, she's acting like a freak an taking random dicks
You know she had to grip, she almost snapped her wrist
While we snap some picks, for that only fans account
You know she had to get. Now I'm adamant
That she was wetter than naval basses access is
With more seaman up in side her than a battleship
Happy like a kid unwrapping massive Christmas gifts

Yeah, yeah, your the the Mother Fucking truth, bitch
Lookin for some new beef? consider me the Ruthcris
Steak house, and your last man was a tooth pick
hit him up tonight and tell him that you found new Dick
Yeah, yeah, She let me hit it in the new whip
Gave the gawk gawk, her lips were kinda like a noose slipped
Hanging by a thread, tonsils all up on my tool kid
To reduce risk, I unloaded she took 2 trips

No jokes, I was just a Class clown
Skipping with the bad brown girls, playing smash mouth
If I hit it they were shaking and making giraffe sounds
Eyes rolling in their skull until they had to pass out
Feeling like a Paul Wall wishing I was down south
Treating every bad bitch, like a Fuckin cash cow, yeah
I ain't here to gamble, I'm just here to cash out
Looking for a new beezy, in a brand a new house
With twice as many issues, than playboys magazine
But refuse to bare it all, like that Maxim had to be
An she Keep that shut locked up like the traumas supposed to be
She just fucks away the pain, Like Stewart on letter Kenny
Honestly, Tell me what you want from me
If I couldn't lie, there would be no more apologies
Be your self, not the person you always try to be
It would be way more attractive it would help your self esteem

Yeah, yeah, you're not about that life
But your wife rides my Dick, like a Peloton bike
Yeah, yeah, she knows I hit it right
So she always hits me up when you ass outta sight
Yeah, yeah

Written by:
Rich Sherman

Publisher:
Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid

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