All These Thingz

Blue faces for my team
Emails with Primos beats
Females who Keynote speak
Details remain discreet
New bitch from Shangri-La
Her hips go side to side
My dick go high, no lie
Get lost when I’m inside (no way)
We go to foreign lands
Explore with forty grand
She say the Forty’s bland
Pre-pay the Tour De France
And that’s just how the plan go
My shit go on Fantano
Night moves with Stormy Danils
I choose where Stormy can go
I find hr where that line be
Cocaine cut look like ivory
Cobaine-like guys define me
Coltrane-like vibes inspire me
Pine drive that new Durango up
That shit looks like it’s Django, bruh
Dextromethorphan make me numb
Next up and more man you know what (What?!)
Recognize me, four door coupe, this luxury
Order food, that bitch don’t eat
Buy Nikes if we in Greece
Brain in a coupe
Bape in the rain
New Zoot suit
Lou boots, no ankle sprain
Wade in a pool with A-List dames
Aim wit' a tool, shit I want all these things
All these things, all these things
I go dumb from shorty’s brain
Buy her shit if she act sane
Tap that bitch, no more back pain (no way)
On Christmas day I gave her 'caine
She thought it was candy maybe
'Product' called it «Prada»
This bitch still wants me to have her baby
I fucking pour some gravy on the bird and I dig in
She wanna come inside, I let her in, welcome MTV cribs
We drop, bend down, we stand and fuck
She pop, she’s loud, I hand her blunts
I put the roaches down, then I stand on 'em and bust my nut (ew)
These rappers ain’t leveled up enough and it hurts me so
I rip my soul straight out when I lay verses out and make it gold
Sometimes I say shit for the foes or for the hoes
Don’t live by no fucking code no mo'
I feel beats through my bones
Slick ass tones in microphones
Now we on shit I was born with
Wrote those verses on my phone
Curses cursive put that Otis on, bitch
She throw some bogus on
I thought she’d put my old shit on
I blow her fucking phone
And give this beat an extra chromosome
You really gonna let these niggas tell you what you can and can’t have?
Nigga, we want all things. Every last thing. So come on, let’s go
Bape in the rain
New Zoot suit
Lou boots, no ankle sprain
Wade in a pool with A-List dames
Aim wit' a tool, shit I want all these things
Brain in a coupe
Bape in the rain
New Zoot suit
Lou boots, no ankle sprain
Wade in a pool with A-List dames
Aim wit' a tool, shit I want all these things
Well then fuck it, ima spit it in a faster flow
I throw in 40 for a sess, then I smack the dro
I can’t remember what was hannen for an hour though
I passed out and I throwed up, pass the blow
Then I be blowing up a record, Pete Strasser knows
Then ima rip it till I get the fucking cash in rolls
Wasn’t fucking with a nigga when my sounds were low
Now you fucking wit a nigga when I’m outta control, shit
All these things, all these things
Mixed with the energy of Rah and James
When I say James I don’t mean the baller, dog, ima king
And when I write shit down, it’s on the walls in ink
Shit is permanent, I’m never off, y’all, what you think?
Flow is ice, and the mic’s a maiden, song is a rink
I think that God is prolly fucking with these awful things
Coming harder on the record, nigga, harder than Kay
Run this back, in the front say «slatt»
In the back puff pack, in a Lac throw stacks
Go so loud, yeah just like that, ima cut no slack
Shake ya ass, throw it back, just one more time like whoa
Should we take it back to mine or no?
Divine just like my rhymes, fo sure
Fuck around and make you mine, hoe no
Shit is just a waste of time, so long
So long, to you all, I’m gone, nigga, my life gon go strong
But I could die like any second, pray my records gon live on
So I take a shit on the microphone, search my name on all yall phones
It is spelled K-A-Y, Phillips, but both them L’s gon cross right over,
bitch (ha)
Ahh, thank you Mr. PhiXips
We good