Lil Arrogant Lyrics - Joey Bada$$

[Verse 1: IDK] 

This is what you all been waitin' for, ain't it? 

What people paid paper for, dammit 

This that goin' to the gun range with the click-clack-pow aiming 

That boy from PG but D.C. still claim him 

And I ain't gotta act like I'm from there, I'm real 

Some rappers magicians, they trick you, they Copperfield 

Act tough as a gold medal, you link 'em, they daffodil 

Meanwhile I'm just runnin' back kick returns on the field 

Where the Redskins be losin' but we gon' support 'em still 

That's how you know where our loyalty at 

So place a bet against me, where your royalties at? 

I bet I leave your ass streamed of your 14 percent 

Then fuck on your bitch, my dick named Matumbu, I'm lit 

I rub on her clit, she drip, then I cum on her tits 

How common is this to spit like a fuckin' attempt? 

I'm murderin' shit, I flip, then I leave your ass flipped 

I flip the script, then skip to your fuckin' event 

I take the check and dip, moments later it's spent 

You take the check and shit, it's enough for your 'rents 

So how the fuck you telling me that I ain't good enough, prick? 

Ahhh, I think that I'm top ten, top five 

Top three, top two, top one, and I'm still not done 

Trump supporters' daughters love me, so I still think we won 

She on her knees for that black thing, no Kaepernick, I copped the neck 

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[Verse 2: Joey Bada$$] 

Yo, yo, yo, Badmon! Uhh 

Here's what you been waitin' for, ain't it? 

It's a portrait, if you can see the picture, paint it 

I ain't got to explain it, this lane, I done paved it (right) 

I done paid my dues now I'm just collectin' payments (collect) 

One verse, that's gon' be your whole life savings 

If I was you, I'd be makin' funeral arrangements (true) 

These bars, I could leave your mind in enslavement (what else?) 

Hit you with the bar that I'm raisin', I come in, gun blazin' (facts) 

We gon' see who get the last laugh (hah) 

It's funny 'cause these niggas always trippin' off the past (hah) 

Think this shit a joke until somebody get smoked 

Choked, off the very words that they spoke 

Listen here though, it's gettin' near close 

'Bout to blow your brains through your fuckin' earlobes 

This one, the kid been gon' for a while, they missed him 

Patient with the shot, when we blast off, won't miss him 

Photos 

[Verse 3: Russ] 

(Somebody gon' die tonight) 

Rappers see me but don't say shit like they don't have vocals 

And they be dissin' on the socials like they don't have Pro-Tools 

They big you up until you're big enough 

I guess the love was never real, as if I really give a fuck 

I'm already eight figures up 

Y'all are in the minors still, I'm Willie Mays 

Y'all still jumpin' out of bed for 50K 

I roll back over and continue fuckin' all y'all's favorite 

I'm the greatest, I'm not stoppin' until all y'all say it 

I'm courtside, closin' multi-million dollar deals 

Then we celebrate it, eat Italian, thousand dollar meals 

I'm in Lake Como, you stay in NoHo, the hate is promo 

I play solo, women take photos, ride me like they play Polo 

My crew solid, new problems, my day ones deserve two commas 

A few dollars moves nada, we still act the same, you not a— 

Part of the formula that put me here, so fuck you 

When the second album drops, watch who they all run to 

(Haha)