SdvM - Truffle Butter (Remix) lyrics

[Verse 1] b**h, I'm no beginner, dick her down soon as I get her Eat a ho for breakfast, lunch, and then for dinner I keep one ho for the summer and the other's for the winter So even in cold days, I'm living a born sinner A go-getter, hot boy with a cold inner Charlie Sheen in my genes, I'm living a born winner I make more every hour than I ever could have spend I take 3 rappers, turn 'em to Two and a Half Men So now what to do with these two? They just diss and beef, I can make a beef stew Axe drop the needle, they can write your a** a review I'm not the only one to see your act is see through Ooh, my buzz is getting hell hot Lyrical rocket punches, the bell ring cause they bell rocked I earned my stripes in the game like shell tops My package so big, it dont fit in yo' mailbox Not even close, the most, freshest on each coast No east coast, but them ladies, I'll eat those Murder every beat, caucasian King Los You don't know I'm the greatest, well, b**h, you finna know [Hook] You know What rapper runs the game I saw, conquer, and came Establishe my own name I'll see you in ten years, up in the hall of fame From this moment on, my life will never be the same You know That I'm bound to make it big When they pronounce me dead Y'all gon' remember what I did Boys sleeping on the boy gon' be scratching on they head And the radio will play my big hits You know that [Verse 2] No need to mention, I know that I'm perfection One double entendre coming to ya in third dimension You rappers torn up, no sh** we are short of So your career has the length as the act of your love On my fourth cup, leaning like a mothaf**er I flip MILFS over, I really mean a mothaf**er Wow...Guess the white kid on top, huh? Hold your feet to the flames and imma drop ya I don't wear grills, but damnit, I roast rappers Imma chef and a k**er, so I face ghost rappers I won't say names, but I'm talking those rappers The 'I don't really own all the fake sh** that I boast' rappers Yeah, I guess I'm kinda guilty Run laps 'round these rappers, but the skintone be all milky Spit smooth, spit silky, while I pa** around the sticky High on that dutch sh**, we ain't blowing on that filthy Them dirty pockets though, you boys on them poppy songs Label pull your strings, you're just the puppet show Wow [Hook] [Verse 3] Uhh, yeah, I'm just thinking out loud Chances are that I'm one of the realest rappers around MvdS, real names, no gimmicks Me versus the world, we're lining up for a scrimmage Uhh, enter the neutral zone s** a dick or get swerved, I want a useful ho On pharmaceutical, b**h, you better roll one I hit and quit it, f** the p**y, keep my coat on Okay, I got some problems, tell me who is the hottest You can shake your head, boy, but listen up: you not it Fat pockets, sh** be looking like Wallace But it's no biggie, I'm carrying multiple wallets Like hydraulics, I see you're streaming my music Don't be shy, call me out and say it's good sh** If you don't f** with me, that's cool as well, go mute it But this b**h gon' turn into the Olympics up in Munich I mean a ma**acre, k** the driver and the pa**engers Verbally, I'm murdering, I'll even shoot the messenger Turn their rag red, they'll be looking like a matador You know I'm the hardest from Jakarta to El Salvador [Hook]