Cargo Head Lyrics - Upchurch

Captain, nothing seems to be appearing on the radar 

I don't see it 

Upchurch is not a rapper so that was like beating up uh, uh, that was like uh, that was like literally a basketball player winning in the Special Olympics *Laugh* and then bragging, you can't really brag about beating Upchurch in a battle 

Church, Church, Church, Church 

Hey fuckboy if I fuck you anymore you'll be my fuck toy 

Groupies in an uproar 'cause we ain't on the same floor 

Go ahead and call me gay, we know I make you butt sore 

Sweaty and played out just like a cheap and rugged hump whore in a dump boy 

What you wantin' dehydrated prick? Thirsty bitch 

This is why I drive a fuckin' hearse and shit 

Every verse you spit ain't got enough turbulence to even make me shake or twitch 

You shoulda been a white girl you basic trick, kick flip to the X-Game 

Review my own roast, yeah he mad I forgot his stupid ass name 

Cremation of a artist, I'll put his ashes in my pen 

I'll make sure my next album your rap name and chart higher than you kid 

Mr. Blue Jean Face, corduroy, overalls 

Hunter green crocs curb stompin' your glass jaw 

Into the asphalt 

Sayin' I ain't a rapper, you done lost your mind 

That's why when you look at paper all you jot down is beginner lines 

Don't hang on your own word, you're self proclaimed in battle 

I'm a Mewtwo you're a Bulbasaur faggot 

Yeah I'm pro with the racket, you look like Adidas models 

You ain't got not gas, I'm still layin' on the throttle 

Wing wing on that Yamaha, career chromed way out 

I'm flyer than the zipper on my own damn jeans pal 

I would say "back down" but that's a code for Munfu and his mouth 

And as to how we roll hashtag pussy burnout 

Hey gummi worm head, Sister Act lookin' ass 

Sunday school skippin' 'cause you scared of Church flames now 

Son I got that southern twang like gravy on a biscuit 

Your crew look like some skinny hoes with girly hand movements 

Is that an MC with bars or a gypsy hippy readin' Tarot cards? 

With a camouflage scarf on, what the fuck y'all 

Nose ring like Rihanna, dry skin give him some water 

I'ma have a baby just so you can rap battle my daughter 

Yeah you went the wrong way, GPS the nearest Exxon 

Before this hillbilly does a hex to get you flexed on 

I'm worldwide, my legal name is endin' with a dot com 

I'm up beside the church, top flite with the God bars 

I meant to say gold but I took the L out 

Your rap sheet look like Tetris, you got too many shapes now 

Here's your third 90 degree angle, you're startin' to build a hut now 

An L from Clou9 and T-Rev damn build a castle 

Dissin' you ain't even fun, competition weak 

I made my records last week for 2023 

And here you are still cryin' 'bout a hella old beef 

Take this last L I'll give you, stop embarrasin' your fleet 

Before they all leave your page and come subscribe to me 

'Cause they know I'm goin' down as a hip hop OG 

You're exactly what Tom MacDonald wrote about and just released 

You a cloned motherfucker, what history Blue Jean? 

River Rat, thunderbolt like a Pikachu 

I already zapped you with a dose and fried your brain just check YouTube 

And here's a middle finger and a fourth one for your boyfriend too 

I'm glad y'all are still together, you make a really good couple 

Tell Munfu to clean his beard from all that mayonnaise and mustard 

Yeah, my cheeks are hella red but I don't ever get flustered 

Owned by a country star again, write a song about it motherfucker 

Church 

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