Plans to expand lyrics

[Intro - Apathy and Samples]
Humming
Genie bottle motherf*ckers
Yeah
More humming
No-plan b*tches, uh

[Verse 1 - Apathy]
You can't trust your eyes, it’s all just a disguise
All disgusting lies, the fake justifies
Used to like Kanye, well he did touch the sky
But now I just despise fake, constructed lies
Televising they lines, photoshopping the eyes
Photoshopping the thighs to give girls a different size
Many women despise what the creator supplies
Wants to impress the guys, with fake titties she buys
For the guys who talk to her, surprise:
Wanna know what he makes, wanna know what he drives
For the fellas who listening, here's a word to the wise:
Any b*tch like that, is a bird 'til she dies
They can blur the lines and try to hypnotize
Wanna know your income, more so than your di*k size
The status satisfies the baddest asses alive
Matter of fact, if you’re paid, scattered ashes are dollar signs
And it boggles my mind, it's a sign of the times
That a b*tch's behind is becoming a diamond mine
Y'all rhyme to get signed, how I rhyme to just rhyme
Analyzing my lines when fans press the rewind
[Chorus - Voice Samples]
[???]

[Verse 2 - Apathy]
Ashes to ashes, may God burn the masses
Them as*h*les who go out at night with sunglasses
You probably like me, if it makes you sick
Like chicks who paint they eyebrows way too thick
Instagram to Snapchat it's whack raps over trap beats
You Facebook gangstas f*ck around, get your ass beat
The Beast must be clocking overtime snatching souls
A lack of goals enables these ratchet hoes
Man, I'm saying, every single story you've ever heard
When the (?), to God's word
Tells tales of sinners who sell souls for riches
Y’all are devilish b*tches, and I ain’t even religious
And I don't speak the language, or sweat this lame b*tch
It’s crazy how now mainstream Cocaine is
There's no more love songs, it's such an evil world
Everybody's always tryin’ to f*ck somebody else's girl
Get money, spend money, spread hate, and speak lies
Nobody even talks or looks each other in the eyes
And look
I'm not a hater, I'm a fact-stater, rap greater
Slap-a-Faker, Whack traitor(?), culture vultures, Ap made a
Conscious effort to dis 'em on this record
They acting so defensive and let they're feelings get hurt
Well boo-f*ckin-hoo, what's a pus*y to do
Turn on that autotune on and sing a Drake song or two
I'm through