Mykki Blanco - Wavvy lyrics

[Intro] I'm the motherf**in rookie of the year Mykki Blanco Young Castro [Pre-verse] We on that chill tip, real high We feeling real loose, real fly We on that chill tip, real high We feelin real loose, real fly [Verse 1] Welcome to Hell b**hes, this is Mykki Blanco New World Order motherf**er, follow pronto Get in line n***a Your soul is mine n***a You scaredy cat p**y motherf**ers can't deliver Maybe she born with it, maybe it was Maybelline All white Blanco give your heathen a** a christening n***as so greasy in the daylight, he glistening "Oh this f*g can rap" yeah they saying that they listening Pissing in the wind At the 4-a-m spot Blazed off the indica A bottle of Ciroc A mouth full of pop Chug it in the pay phone 1-800- LOCO Mother f**ers y'all can go home I'm the new Rufio Y'all ain't know I pimp slap you b**h n***as with my limp wrist, bro What the f** I gotta prove to a room full of dudes Who ain't listening to my words cuz they staring at my shoes [Hook] We...we we make love to the night In the back of the club yeah we feeling alright L-lights lights low This sh** feel crazy Low key loose n***as know We getting wavvy We getting wavvy, getting wavvy, getting wavvy We getting wavvy, getting wavvy, getting wavvy We getting wavvy, getting wavvy, getting wavvy We getting wavvy -- huh -- we getting wavvy [Pre-verse] [Verse 2] I bite I bite I bite the head off a harpy Eat these b**hes alive, no water I cry blood tears, Holy Mary, Holy Mother Somebody get the shaman motherf**er run for cover Blanco Blanco Blanco say it three times, Candy Man I'm coming outta the dark with red eyes and red hands I scalp these haters with a sickle I'm a sling blade I'm cut-throat b**h, I cut throats b**hes keep away Now many play me for dummy, not funny Now a b**h about to get money, they wanna love me Tell them no no no I played that Destiny's Child Young hearts run free, young bloods run wild (heyyy) Green light, with a mic in my hand I go forward into battle with a dice in my hand One chance, one woman, seeking the truth One truth - veiled in the illusions of youth [Hook] [Verse 3] I'm bout to sour you n***as Be that spitter sh** I'm flexing all my powers on n***a These no cla** trashy hood rap brat broads Ain't got what it takes, put 'em back in training bras Local mother f**ers, birds of a feather If you's a dick rider you gon' dick ride forever I said local mother f**ers, birds of a feather If you's a dick rider you gon' dick ride forever, n***a [Hook x2]