Schizo (Shortened) lyrics

[Hook]
I’m a schizo, fat like Lizzo
My lyrics’ll make you go, “what the frick yo!”
I’m just a kid, yo
There is hope
Layin' on my pillow in home
Didn’t have to go this low
But I did though
You still owe me money
Like Mr. Krabs but this is no kid show
I’ma have to spit slow

[Verse 1]
'Cause I’m goin' way too fast
For you motherf*ckers at home with Google Chrome
I be stalkin' people on the f*ckin' internet
Yo girl asked, “Is it in it yet?”
She left you, now she’s lickin' on my di*k
It’s because you have no intellect
Yo girl said, “Ayo, your bars are so sick”
I’m eatin' her out but it isn’t even dinner yet
Muslim with a bomb on his chеst
Ariana Grande concert
Now they’rе all hurt
Y’all been playin' the game too long
So now is my turn
Put an AirPod in the ear, chug a beer
I can’t hear
All year 'round
You new 'round here?
Oh, don’t fear, I don’t like queers
So if one steps up to me they’ll get killed
Get grilled, you little b*tch
Get a couple of stitches, that reminds me
Like Tristan (b*tch), comin' back like he playin' with the mixes
f*ck that song
I got a magnum dong
Like Tristan when he bought condoms
I got a revolver, .44
I got whore opening the door 'cause she want some
[Hook]
I’m a schizo, fat like Lizzo
My lyrics’ll make you go, “what the frick yo!”
I’m just a kid, yo
There is hope
Layin' on my pillow in home
Didn’t have to go this low
But I did though
You still owe me money
Like Mr. Krabs but this is no kid show
I’ma have to spit slow
I’m a schizo, fat like Lizzo
My lyrics’ll make you go, “what the frick yo!”
I’m just a kid, yo
There is hope
Layin' on my pillow in home
Didn’t have to go this low
But I did though
You still owe me money
Like Mr. Krabs but this is no kid show
I’ma have to spit slow

[Verse 2]
'Cause I’m goin' way too fast
For you motherf*ckers at home chillin' up on yo couch
I don’t give a damn about the sh*t that you’re spittin' outta your mouth
All I care is about makin' them racks and makin' them stack
Get a few plaques, make sure the frame’s all cracked
If you look out your window at night
You won’t even see me 'cause I’m wearin' all black
I’m a balla (How do I know that, for sure?)
'Cause I got the Chevrolet Impala
Twenty-inch blade rims
Makin' a diss on Charlie 'cause I hate him
You seem mistaken
I wanna talk to this b*tch but she’s taken
I roasted your mom in a battle
So I guess that means that I’m cookin' bacon
Let’s meet up at around 8:10
I like my drink stirred, b*tch, not shaken
I got a victim and she’s Asian
Throw her in a river, but first I’m takin'
Some body parts, but enough of that
I don’t want anybody to discover that
I got Ted Bundy’s murders, but double that
I’m the king of rap, where’s my medal at?