Scary Hours lyrics

[Verse 1: Gucci Greggo]
The nappy headed motherf*cker’s back on the beat again
Never gonna tell me to take the backseat again
I hate you motherf*ckers like it’s allergy season
b*tches tryna stop me from breathin', need some pseudoephedrine
Got some bullets in the chamber
Finna hit rappers that’s lamer
I'm the motherf*ckin' big player
Got six shooter hangin off my hip, call me Eastwood
Yeah, your boy rap good, but I'm not from the hood
If I keep goin down this road, rest assured that the homies gonna eat good
These days all I got is money on my mind
Take of mines while I lay back and write uncanny rhymes
Man I love this sh*t
I'ma have every club talkin' bout the fantastic Mr. Meredith
But I don’t wanna be on the rise too quick
Cuz I remember that the same rope you climb up on, they hang you with
Damn, that’s word to Jermaine
I studied that man’s flow for a hundred days
And now I've found mine and I'm here to stay
My rhymes, they ain’t ever gonna flatline
They will always be worshipped like the words of the f*ckin' divine
sh*t, it’s scary hours my homie
I like to think that I need a label but that’s cap my homie
Cuz who the f*ck gonna sign this weirdo?
I think I like to pull my own strings like Geppeto
I'm the most dangerous motherf*cker with the nappy fro you will ever know
Wanna be forgiven? You gotta pray to me like I'm the f*ckin' holy ghost
I ain’t kissin' no swishas but I heard you want the smoke
Better say your goodbyes like “That’s all folks”
I’ll cause a bloody mess like I'm runnin' with scissors
And I might just trip like I'm sippin' on sizurp
I'm the rap wizard
You hear my lines on the beat and your b*tch get jitters
I'm a million times better than the raps he delivers
Like Mortal Kombat, I’ll send my demons to rip out your livers
f*ck it, R.I.P. Bill Withers