Real Rap

I'm really rapping, I'm finger snapping, I'm pistol packing. You kids are slipping my

swag is dripping so here's a napkin. You bow down to me like I'm king of Apkin.

I'm so high I can sing to a chandelier,

It is so clear like an atmosphere, go shoot off in a rocket because I don't

care so take your pity self and go cry to your mommy Johnny. I will party like a beast,

and you can decrease like a little peace that don't reply, I deny you to cause you took

it to far, Omar!