Intermitten Fasting lyrics

[Verse 1]
I f*cked a lot of porno hoes like B. Pumper
My name known around the world 'cause I'm a jumper
Don't wanna throw my sideways, I got the dumper
My pockets stay all fat like a ba-dunka-dunka
The truck I rolled in kind of looked like a Tonka
I toke the Chocolate Thai then I smoke Willa Wonka
I never liked the way you flowed, you should be sunken
I'm diabetic, you n*ggas sweet, I call you pumpkin
You wack rap n*ggas be chokin' like Tim Duncan
I'm out here on the come up for real and I'm tryin' to function
The big wicked witch, and you n*ggas is just the munchkins
I'll send something hot your way and have you croakin'

[Verse 2]
I was born with it, you n*ggas just bought style
Esham the Unholy wicked rough child
How you like me now? Still rock 7 Mile
Watch my money pile, hip hop dead 'cause he livin' fowl
Mama was a junkie, Daddy was a dope dealer
The two of them f*ckin' around birthed a killer
Man, I'm sick, man I'm f*ckin' sick, son of a b*tch
I'm a sun of a gun, load the clip and stay off my di*k
Ever since I came out, you was on my p*nis
My jimmy so long that it stretch from Earth to Venus
Flytrap with the fly rappin' I'm a genius
Hoes take off their clothes 'cause I'm looking like the cleaners
Man, it's hard to come from nothin' and have somethin' plus to keep it
What I got up in my pocket ain't no motherf*ckin' secret
You reap what you sow, and you sowin' what you reapin'
I try to wake the dead, but these n*ggas keep on sleepin'
The meek shape inherit the earth, but they ain't speakin'
The cat must got they tongue, I feel like a wicked deacon
All these R&B singers sing about is freakin'
I wanna put a hole in they head and leave 'em leakin'
*Gunshot*
[Interlude]
(Die!) n*ggas dying in dirty rooms
(Die! Die, die, die, die, die!)
Even learned how to die in mansions now
Big office buildings, fancy dying
n*ggas love dying
(Die! Die, die, die, die, die!)
Build big funeral homes so dead n*gga undertakers
Get rich burying dying n*ggas
Die, n*gga! n*ggas always tryin' to die, n*ggas get shot
(Die! Die, die, die, die, die!)
Die, n*gga! n*ggas get hung
Die, n*gga! n*ggas get lynched
(Die! Die, die, die, die, die!)
Die, n*gga!

[Verse 3]
I was all about Ferraris, Lamborghinis as a teeny bopper
Now I'm in the leer jets, private planes and helicopters
Hundred round choppers, write prescriptions like a doctor
You know I'm coming through with the cannons like Chewbacca
My home in Bermuda, my little homie is the shooter
I run Bolivia game, I pull up with a cougar
I still live a trill life, ill in my real life
I'm ill in my real life