Drop a beat, get it poppin' like corn
Remember back in middle school, I used to fuck with porn?
Remember back in high school, I used to watch porn?
Shoutout to Aria Giovanni
Now I got a girl on me and her underwear's Tommy
Her boyfriend's a sucker, he still lives with his mommy
I'm in a condo and my porch face the pool
And I'm too smart for class, man, motherfuck school
Blake Rules, bro, I'm a motherfuckin' genius
People I don't know put my raps on rap genius
People show their friends like, "Yo, have you seen this?
Shit's pretty good, bro, how come he's not famous?"
I keep sayin' Blake so they know what my name is
That's a little trick I picked up from Mike Jones
I don't write raps, I just say what I'm thinking
But these people call it rapping when I write these tight poems
And I think you might know 'em
Or at least you're about to
Don't let your girl meet me
Or we're gonna leave without you
And every single day, it's gettin' easier to speak
So I'll probably be famous by this time next week
So put it in your calendar, get back to me by then
'Cause if you're hatin' out by then, you'll wanna be my friend
I just keep it rockin' while these losers Twitter stalkin'
And I hit 'em with the pull-stare, Christopher Walken
I'm old enough to remember having walkman's
I'm young enough that I'm still gettin' laid
And you are not a man like me, check my chest hair
And check my paychecks, bro, I'm still gettin' paid
Life gave me lemons and I threw 'em out my car
At your face, when I drove by
Bro, I'm always so high
And I don't know why you haven't skipped the track yet
Blake Rules, girl, I just wanna taste your back sweat
A whole magnet, a sucker for hoops
I'm textin' back your girl while I'm takin' a poop
I love Chicago but I fuckin' hate The Loop
Catch me outside, smokin' blunts on your stoop
Blake Rules, where's the girls that got no day job?
You can kick it wit' me, we can chill and watch Baywatch
Or we can kick it at the dog park
Pet other people's dogs and pretend that they're ours
From the snare to the hats to the kickdrum
Blake Rules, don't know where the fuck I got this shit from
Ay, breakfast, sip lots of the beer-ah
Pearl necklace, shouts to Asa Akira
Pasta primavera, I don't even care-ah
About your Air One's or Justin Bieber haircut
I'm on the mixtape like M1
With the switchblades stashed up in the pyjamas
It's standard, they see me bustin' nuts in the Bahamas
Smooth as Rob Thomas and Carlos Santana
New York, L.A, Chicago, Atlanta
I used to get robbed just for rocking bandanas
Now I just peel out the glock and banana
Clip from the hip of my god damn pyjamas
I only write songs about rocking pyjamas
Finna write songs 'til I'm locked in the slammer
You should take a seat like I'm Rob Van Dam
In the ring, about to kick you in your god damn man bun
Bad luck, breakfast, (?) extravaganza
Tryna sneak knives through the Webster Hall scanners
Tryna free minds, bustin' heads like scanners
Kinda weak lines but the flow is bananas
Shouts out to Gwen Stefani back in '08
I used to rock a North Face fanny pack, okay?
Other rappers say, "Damn, he raps so great"
Holding footballs at my shows like Coldplay
