CupcakKe – Who Run It (Freestyle) Lyrics

Shout out to Stormcutter, Three 6 Mafia, G Herbo
I wrote this shit in four fucking hours
No sleep, man
Let me talk my shit real quick, all the real niggas gon’ feel this
How that’s yo’ kid but he ain’t got bills? Can’t find you in family pics
Food stamps, they go so quick when you up in a family of six
So it’s funny how they sell that shit for a little pack of weed and a new pair of kicks
Man, I’m so dead, I can’t, inside I feel so blank
Little girls on Twitter talkin’ ’bout they break up, girl, sit back on Paint
If I’m alive, no complaints, none of these judges saints
Let the black beat her, that’s 10 years, but if white beat her, “nice tank”
It’s so ridiculous, ain’t shit funny, ain’t ticklish
Don’t test me if I’m with the shits, end up in a cage, no Nicholas
Everything about me is interesting, I’ma need more and more Benjamins
Damn, I can’t breathe, stop smoking them trees, got your insides looking like Christmas
Ungrateful hoes, get the fuck out of here, you had a rough day and I had a rough year
So when I get money I really do care, go and invest it, not spending on gear
Think about that, just stating facts, niggas don’t chart when it’s real rap
Earn my respect then you get it right back, that go hand in hand ain’t talkin’ dap
A lot of issues in my past still hurt me to this day, to the core
I don’t ever open up ’cause I know people change like the oil
Over 100k up on tour, still got a mindset like I’m poor
But I’m on the roll when it come to rappin’ like a pack of aluminum foil
Man, I love walking barefoot, I really like the feel when I’m at the bottom (what?)
‘Cause I know it’s only for a couple of seconds, then I’m right back to my stardom (that’s right)
Motherfuckers ain’t woke, man, I gotta fuck around and re-alarm ’em
I’m woke all day, 3 AM, when they call me Jake from State Farm
Okay, lil’ bitch, act like you know, anything I say is right like nose
Walk right over there, hoe, like roach, and it’s over for these hoes, no dose
Walk in that bitch with a white T, they don’t really like me but you know how that goes
Walk out that bitch you would think I’m little red riding hood, how I got blood on my clothes
Let’s not paint that picture, if I shoot, won’t miss ya
Anything prior to this won’t matter, man, I’m just tryna get richer (in the past)
Y’all ain’t peep Richard Pryor, y’all brain flat, no tire
Now everybody tryna hang like a fucking dirty diaper
They like “follow me for a follow back,” bitch you follow me, then you getting smacked
I enter shit but I don’t interact, never sucked up, I drink Similac
Shorty bluffin’, ain’t got nothin’ in her pocket but a fucking cigarette (broke ass)
Ain’t talkin’ no massage when I say I’m ’bout to hit the bitch in the back (ah)
I’m always so prepared, I don’t flinch, that’s rare (you know it)
Them boys singing in Walmart, I won’t move ’cause I’m never scared
Just know I ain’t playing fair, I want a big wheel, no chair (that money)
So it’s hard getting to the top, but it’s easy going down like the stairs

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