Flippa - MOM'S SPH ∀GETT ∀ lyrics
- - Intro - Fake n***as, b**h n***as, damn got me f**ed up. All this f**in' new wave social media bullsh**, fake rappers wit their wikapedia rhymes, damn textin' rebloggin, bout to get to flogging, fat hoes need to get to joggin Kids noggins' empty like their flip phone collection see a smart phone they get a f**in' erection I got that Spa Getta but if she wearin' her mom's home made sweatah I say I got somethin' beta pull out mom's spah getta But damn the cops were on the block, when they gonna get off my co*k Sprintin' flinchin' n***as itchin for my dick Got sick of this sh** wanted go home for some mom'as spahegtta Pull out the beretta, yo cops I tell ya, I got something betta Sprayin' sh** layin waste to pigs havin fits Gay and fancy like n***as in blouses or out wit their wives pickin out houses Yo, I'ma have a sh** fit and lay down all your spouses Gonna have to get fido to find they bones, k** all them white boys tappin' phones I mean sorry, not sorry f** money, f** hoes, f** n***as with b**h a** touch screen phones fu*k all my foes Where the f** did I put Fido, I need him to find my senses, buried them somewhere, murder? I wouldn't dare It's just that I don't care Got my conscious restlin with a bear, it's about to lose Just like how I'm going to lose my mind Let me find fido, I'm on da grind Everytime I tune in for the radio, I hear this gay club sh** f*ggots tryin' to get in this love sh**, R&B sh**, ugh sh**. only thing I've ever loved is my flipphone My ego wont budge, so I let the devil give me a nudge But women avoid me like I'm a disease tryin' to spread I better forfeit before I incrase my dread, locks Flow is sick like chicken pocks, I'd like a martini on the rocks, Just kiddin' gonna get drunk off himlock berries so I can meet the boatsman' on tha fairy. So I can head to the afterlife where it ain't so scary I could use some common sense right about now, before I murder everyone in the comments tellin' me my sh** is low quality My music is like my life low quality, but my mom's spahgetta godly Here we go again wit christian's tellin me to do the right thing But I sing songs about rapin' hoes and tappin phones, whats so wrong? I would take a hit from the bong, but I'd rather take a hit from my father Dad didn't want to bother, I didn't either, and my mother, f**in' b**h I despise her But she gave me my good looks, but too bad I'm not good like my looks I'm a fire starter, but this fire started in the street and headed up the building at night to be discreet What was I burning? Kids, wives, mothers, and every smart phone lover Got a plate it's too late, whatcha lookin' at this is mom's spah getta I'm a go getta, but my temper is short like every letter I eve got from my family Count the alphabets and make a bet I can guarantee going to regret Tellin' me I ain't lyrical, yet everyone crunkin' to yeezy, yeezus and every mother f**er actin like jeezus Front with the messiah I ain't no liah, lost my innocence back in 1999, musta dropped it in a dumpster Couldn't smell it was already rotten like my life, never made good choices It's like I'm from the odd future, lookin for a gang of furries to hang, ain't no light shinning through the aperture When I spot the rapture, it's jesus I'm gonna capture or yeezus whoever His bones I'm gonna fracture, every rapper wanna be actor ain't a factor Welcome to fear factor, where my only fear is a queer with a smart phone fetish Run over a gadget b**h like a deer under a tractor, or call up hopsin and tell him his sh** is a FLOP throw away the keys on the lock Jail that n***a for s**in my co*k Spot I'm plottin, I slaughter like the ill-gotten but my presence is easily forgotten But there's one thing I'll never forget, but I'll never get, because I k**ed the one in demand, and jerked off using her severed hand, let me have another plate before I lose my mind Oh wait it's too late Just wanted to restate I've always loved a plate of mom's spahgetta