Super Market
Hi, welcome to Fuckey Foods
Umm, this lane is open if, if you need, if you to check out
Uhh, you're buying uh, donuts and a pack of Diet Pepsi?
Sweet, okay makes sense
In this fucking line at Ralph's buying granola bars
Left my member's card and now this shit gon' have an extra charge
This old bitch in front of me buying a color printer
TV dinners, tampons, soy milk, paint thinner
So here I am at the store for some chips
That I'mma pay for with dimes, nickels and quarters and shit
And I'm still high, so I'm tryna dip
But I'mma cut through the line to get outta this bitch
What the fuck, who the fuck's this gay nigga in fake Gucci?
Jordan numbers, whatever, wood chain with a Jesus
Hey you, what the fuck you think you doing? (Nigga, fuck you)
(I'm just eating Ruffles, gotta lotta stuff, fool)
(So, why don't you fucking wipe that stupid look on your face)
Don't make me shoot up this place with light sabers and guns
And shoot caps at knee caps to make it harder to run
And put your ankles in some boards and pissy water for fun
(Nigga, I'm a samurai, cut your skinny ass in half)
(Look up at the aftermath, blow some fucking hash and laugh)
I'm a fucking ninja and a jedi and I am from Compton
Better pick a better option 'fore these Nikes get to stomping
Chomping at your oxygen chords, you fat fake Kenan Thompson
Like a virgin, cherry faggot, we could get it poppin'
I bet you lock and drop it, faggot bitch, you ain't from Compton
Dumbo ears, you Mary Poppin, with the piece that Kel was rocking
I will fucking beat your ass, box logos through the glass
I'll hit you hooky like you skipping class, Lee would get the math
Oh, really? You're silly giving tip drills to Nelly
Get them Ruffles no Lays cause Kiara might kill me, aw, fuck
This I'm grabbing two kitchen knives and stabbing
This Ice Cube look-a-like to show you a nigga with attitude
Wait, I heard about you from that other nigga Earl
How you traveled to Milan and now it only likes girls
I'll roundhouse you into a fucking basket
Push you into an old lady bagging plastic
Hope you get the message, I will stomp you into potholes
And fill you up with shells, but you're used to eating tacos
Oh, a Taco joke? Domo smoke, I heard
Your album sound like some shit a fake Wiz Khalifa poppa wrote
I'm insulted, shit, damn, somebody grab the Charmin
Nevermind these messages, Monica her nigga arming
Swift-made switch blades made a big incision in him
Red dot his forehead 'cause Riley's into Hinduism
And hipsters who happen to be your listeners
Doobies roll your booty, ho, Alexis know the truthy, bro
Oh, a Lexus? I drive all that around
The western hemisphere like all of Kiara's ex's
And bet this, I'm a mothafuckin' monster
Fuck talking, I'll stab you with this fucking rocket launcher
(When I cock the beam back, I'm aiming for Supreme hats)
(Go to Hell, I mean that, burn you like green backs)
You don't mean that, you faggot, I'll get your back
And I'll snap it, and strangle you with that fucking leather jacket
Fall, bitch, give me everything, I'm taking all this
And fleeing the scene on Rufus, my evil walrus, bitch
Fuck you, I'm out
I'm high as fuck and I didn't call for all this
I'mma get on my zombie shit, wait, here's my carcass
Sir, sir, sir, in the green hat, sir
You, you, you have to pay for that.
You have to, the Arizonas, you have to pay for those
I fucking hate this job
Fuck, clean up on aisle six
Autor(es): Dominique Cole, Tyler Okonma
