Whit's Notes
This song was a joint effort by me and a member of my team C.E.B. we posted it on his account though. Enjoy!
[Hook 1: Whit & (C.E.B.)]
Sipping on the sauce got the juice, yeah
(Wait what?)
Sipping on the sauce feeling loose I got the juice, yeah
(We're not even sipping anything, what're you doing?)
Sipping on the sauce got the juice, yeah
(Just Rap)
Lemme just rap on em
[Whit.]
You must be
Thinking this weird nigga he tryna be
The man so intune with music that he'd fucking cum on beat
Put my soul up in the song, boi I put my foot in it
I got a note up on my feet
You read it to define me
Got more talent than most of these niggas in my broken digits
Chop the mic into these pieces with my hands like Edward scissors
You say you that you better nigga, alternative facts
I bring it back,
Rep the city STL on my hat
You always lose in the Lou brand an L on yo back
I'm nigga they love to choose words got em fiendin for crack
I said im running shit nigga, never catch me on tracks
Who would of thought that yo god damn savior was black
I said damn
God Damn
God Damn
God Damn
[Hook 2: Whit & (C.E.B.)]
Sipping on the sauce got the juice
(What?)
Got me feeling loose
(Why you go- why you got autotune now)
Sipping on the sauce got the juice
Got me feeling loose
(Makes no sense. Why are we- why are we doing this?)
Got me feeling loose
Sipping on the sauce
Sipping on the juice
(No)
No?
(Lemme Rap)
Aight, Whatever
[C.E.B.]
Never really been a fan of comin in second so I be doin this shit every day
No sleep been startin to make my head ache
Can't really think straight but my pen game
Gettin better and better I don't take breaks
Aimin for that number one and when I shoot I don't miss
Tryin not to laugh at these rappers but it's hard to resist
They always talkin bout what's on their wrist like people really give a shit
I Couldn't give a fuck about it
Pretending you don't exist
Now that's the truth
When I'm talkin bout these rappers I'm talkin bout you
Talkin bout shit you don't even fuckin do
Boi you ain't dope you ain't really even cool
Imma keep on scribbling until my wrist lock
I been too hard for too long call the doc
I feel like my time running is short on the clock
I feel like a veteran you rookies shell shocked
I'm so full myself but I still got room for these beats
I'm eatin them up like mm mm bon appetite
I defeat any competitors who comin at me fuck that I don't defeat them
I leave em in pieces they can't even stand they be seizin
I'm a poet so I decided to carpe Diem
Believe him when say that he a beast he got that silver tongue I deceive em
Now go ahead and take ya last breath
Cuz you just entered the ring with the angel of death
[Hook 3: Whit & (C.E.B.)]
Sipping on the sauce, juice
(Wha- what you keep)
Got me feeling loose
(switching styles mid song)
Sipping on the sauce, juice
(it doesn't work like that)
Got me feeling loose
(just no, come on man, come on man)
Got me feeling loose
You know what I'm done, I'm done, I'm done, I'm done lemme tell em about the sauce right now
[Whit.]
Fuck an instrumental
Got the sauce all stencilled
Your juice is in your mental, temporary it's a rental
If you want a little, you gotta crush a round between yo dentals
And make it all clear and crystal, That Whit done popped off like a pistol
Don't care if it's coincidental or accidental
Y'all niggas need to cop my mental
You can't stop my pencil
When it's moving in cilendrical movements, rap circles around you nickels,
Y'all shucking an diving, I'm fuckin dimes and I am a diamond
[C.E.B.]
When you get up on a beat man it's a pity party
You pitter patter on it but if I get it Imma go ahead and really beat up on it
Cuz of how I speed up on em
When I'm on a roll there's no stoppin the pain I'll bring upon em
Killin everything I touch I'm death with the flow
Lookin at me crooked hit the septum breakin ya Nose
Imma get up in ya head Imma break up in ya dome
Imma know what you think
Imma know what you Know
[Whit.]
No, y'all ain't bodying flows
Pussy niggas we ain't copying does
Y'all flockin like crows
We tossin out bows
Stop, nigga no
On top, we gone grow
While you hatin,
we collaborating,
Killin nations,
Of stupid haters,
Thinking they made us,
Until we make em,
Choke on they words, getting elated
Watchin asphyxiation
Fuck a vacation
Nigga I'm jaded
Been building like a mason
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About the Artist
Whit
Member since June 29 2016