Munchies
• Written by Reaper
I swear niggas think I'm lost.
Every time, must I remind you who not to fucking cross.
Me and my island.
So stay in line and watch a Dame kill a petty thousand.
In a second, call it hefty browsing.
Niggas size me up.
Am I in the nominee?
Is it guaranteed to try me up?
Stop the talking.
Cause I'm prowling.
Half the time these hittas make me sick.
Nowadays its bay I gotta kick.
Enough with the bullshit.
Speak your shit just make it quick.
It's so hard being lit when I got every bitch.
In my kitchen causing friction.
But fault lies in them stars right.
My eyes bright in that limelight.
In Dame mode rappers keep afloat.
I peep cope and these scapegoats.
Can I live?
Striving for the life I want.
Buying all them magic wands.
Wishing for a penthouse.
Living in a madhouse.
Truth be told I got it planned out.
See me standout.
I'm getting munchies.
Shredding deadbeats.
I'm smoking niggas with striptease.
These rodents can't see.
Fuck with me.
Now you swimming undersea.
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About the Artist
Reaper
Member since November 26 2013