X for Breakfast (X TWO THREE) lyrics

[Intro: Ken Carson]
(Wake up, F1LTHY)
X-MAN, X-MAN, X-MAN
Yeah, X-MAN, X-MAN, X-MAN
Yeah, X-MAN, X-MAN, X-MAN
Uh, X-MAN, X-MAN, X-MAN

[Verse 1: Ken Carson]
She said, "What you eat this mornin'?" b*tch, I had X for breakfast
I threw that b*tch on a sandwich, no cheese, no lettuce
I ate that lil' b*tch, she was super wet, I ain't need no beverage
The way I f*ck lil' shawty, she comin' back for seconds
Upside down on my cross, yeah, you know I'll shoot the reverend
Send that boy straight to heaven, guess you could call it a blessin'
n*gga mad 'cause we f*ckin on the same ho, see me, nah I ain't stressin'
Or is you mad because she f*cked with me first and shе f*cked with you second?
Or is you mad 'causе I got that bag and yo' pockets unhеalthy?
Walk in that b*tch, they know I'm rich, yeah, they know that I'm wealthy
Balenciaga on my kicks and my jacket Margiela
He talkin' like he hard as sh*t but he soft as a feather

[Verse 2: Destroy Lonely]
n*ggas talkin' bout some cash, b*tch, we havin' extras (Yeah)
n*ggas still smokin' gas, b*tch, we havin' pressure (Yeah)
Got this fine ass b*tch, she mad 'cause I still ain't text her back
b*tch, I'm into fashion, Yup
But my brother servin' crack
If this sh*t don't work, lil' b*tch, I bet I go back to the trap
If he playin' with my work, I'll knock that boy right off the map
We got heavy metal, b*tch
These lil' boys be havin' scraps
I rock every leather, b*tch
Yeah, you know that sh*t all black
I f*ck every type of b*tch
Yeah, I can't even cap
Ho I touch every type of dollar, I like all kinds of cash
Dawg, it's 12, get behind us, roll the windows up and smash out
b*tch, I send my shooter money, he want Cash App for that crash out
[Verse 3: Ken Carson]
Bang, Cash App for that crash out
I'ma Zelle that b*tch
Put a n*gga on a cross, he get crucified
I'ma nail that b*tch
Coulda f*cked yo hoe but I was too damn high to rail that b*tch
She was off that blow, so you know it ain't nothin' you could really tell that b*tch
f*ck it, I'ma go sell that b*tch
Box her up, mail that b*tch
That's how you know my pimpin' lit
That's how you know I'm pimpin' sh*t
I'll slap a b*tch out quick
And you know I'll wipe a n*gga nose, just like a handkerchief
If a n*gga f*ckin' with the O, I'll put that bank on him
Yeah I got a lil' stamp, but I want a lil' more, I'll up my rank on him
I ash my blunt on him
I spill my drank on him
I don't give a sh*t, I don't give a damn, I don't give a f*ck 'bout him