Bitchboy (ESPN) Lyrics

I'm back on my high horse I've been in the mud

In the blue collar district with white collar drugs

You can't touch me you best come for the others

Made somewhere above you, a cut of the upper

Hungry for prowess I won't touch my supper

Til I'm eating wings with that bald motherfucker

Somethin special, I'm the next edition

Look like Jack Harlow with a meth addiction

I'm primo, baby, the best in the business

If you in my way then you in a collision

I stay on my bullshit but I'm actin lazy

I know all them bitches they wanting to hate me

I'm smooth and slidin babe I'm Patrick Swayze

Breakfast with Kanye, fuck dinner with Jay-Z

I leave the house wearing shorts I don't dress up

Next next next one in the line to be next up

You like a glowstick little bitch crack your neck up

Go to the doctor to get you a check up

I'm staring fires, this far from a smoke attack

Throwback to BrainRot, we smokin on smokey's pack

Stand up to me I leave you with a broken back

Hop on a song drop your name in the vocal track

Come for your neck if you speak on my name

No you can't stop me like an online game

Fuck a roach, you get sprayed with some raid

Fuck a lighter you get hit with a flame

Fuck one foot in the ground you got two in the grave

That's what you get if you fuckin with Chade

"Josh! Where's the bass?"

"Josh!"

"He's in the back here"

"Where's the bass?"

Stop talking little bitch I don't feel you

Fuck that- bitch I see the real you

Rugrat- you a kid imma kill you

Spinnin around like a screw, imma drill you

Imma buck back, bitch I don't play tricks,

Run a couple laps round your corpse that's a day trip

Tryna step up in my place is a great risk

Imma put you flat to the earth like they lay bricks

Bitch boy bouta put my vans through your solar plexus

Imma sign my name on your forehead so they give me credit

Imma call your voicemail box and leave a scary message

Leave my name and number at the end so they know who said it

Can't touch me, I'm better than you ever knew

Couldn't measure up to my mark if you ever grew

Put you down into the fuckin ground, it's my pleasure to

Just to see if you could sprout and grow into a better you

You a bitch boy, Imma put yo ass down

You can't fuckin run from my wrath, you get tracked down

Imma put your face in the mat like it's smack down

Then I'll put your mother fuckin soul in the background, yeah