My name is, who? My name is, chka-chka J.I.D baby
HI, My name is, what? My name is, chka-chka J.I.D baby
Hi, My name is, what? Where the liquor at? [Intro]
May I have your attention please
[Hook]
My name is, what? Get Drunk? My name is, who? J.I.D

[Verse 2]
My english teacher called me nigga like in junior high
Thanks a lot, i’ll use this word the rest of my life
My nigga this, my nigga that, dawg where my niggas at
Damn don’t make me kill a nigga, god bring my nigga back
Use it in the wrong context can get a nigga smacked
Little-bitty bullet make a skinny nigga fat
Bonjour, my shitty amour, where your nigga at
Work? chka-chka
Yeah
[Verse 1]
Hi kids, wanna know what I did? I do drugs, get drunk and promote violence
Everywhere I go I take my gun, even churches
Open carry in Georgia so save me a seat in circus
Fuck taking Dylan Roof to jail, you should bring him to me and my niggas
On God there won’t be a homicide
We’ll keep him alive, give me four days, mabye even five
Just from Monday to Friday, I promise he’ll cooperate
We’ll snatch out one of his eyes, make it look him in his eye
Then scalp shave, then use his hide for black pride
I guess you would think I’m tryna incite a race riot, but naw
I like white poeple, I hate that guy
I never understood the mind of a peron that wanna murder
And hurt people who tryna make a change and do good
If he wanted real war he shoulda went to the hood
I would have felt better about it, I just had to acknowledge it, but
[Hook]
Hi, My name is, what? Ok cool. My name is, who? Basically what I’m saying girls and guys are piranhas
My dawg, hit a chick raw, and caught a Ghana Rihanna
I just come by in a word because she was fine as Rihanna
Not saying I’m not saying nothin about Rihanna, Oh I’m sorry Rihanna
I ain’t slept in 20 days, I’m a zombie lil’ mama
I’m tryna play a (?) in muhfucker for fucking insomnia My name is, who? My name is, who? My name is, chka-chka J.I.D baby
Hi, My Name is, what?

ou just hit the lotto

[Hook: Pharrell & (Sample)]
Pullin up with the coupe (Oh my goodness)
Must’ve done something with the roof (Oh my goodness)
You see the look of stupid on the stoop (Oh my goodness)
I would take notes if I were you (Oh my goodness)
This was designed with the stars, the square and the cross
So we know true north
Smilin’, with 50 karats in my jaw
Fuck the law
It’s a shame nigga, rhyme, nigga
Love crime

[Verse 2: Vic Mensa]
Young Vic the diamonds, the finest, I shine like
Puff signed Shyne, except I signed to the Roc ’cause I’m timeless
Top off the Masi, my behavior is mindless
Old kids, nigga, we major, you minors
Fresh out the cell to the booth, drop the Dylan Roof
I’m still in the hood, tell Zimmerman “Shoot”
Hold my nuts with an OJ glove, fuck the judge
These rappers is false flagging, you a fashion blood
What’s brackin’ cuz? What you know about gangbanging?
What’s V-lone thug? Why Bari leave your head rangin’?
Free Vic Mensa, I’mma start chain swanging
This that crack music, nigga, you can blame Reagan
I’m Balmaing without paying, y’all playing
We higher than a bitch, my bitch Himalayan
Suicide-ielago, that’s sacrificial lamb
I’m killa season Cam
No lives matter, blam

[Hook: Pharrell & (Sample)]
Pullin up with the coupe (Oh my goodness)
Must’ve done something with the roof (Oh my goodness)
You see the look of stupid on the stoop (Oh my goodness)
I would take notes if I were you (Oh my goodness)
This was designed with the stars, the square and the cross
So we know true north
Smilin’, 50 karats in my jaw
Fuck the law
It’s a shame nigga, rhyme, nigga
Love crime

[Verse 3: Pusha T]
Every other night I’m outside with the nine
You ain’t got chips, fuck the world
You got chips, you could fuck the next man’s girl
Sounds harsh but they been ripped apart my world
The weight kiss told us should never be misquoted
Them guns that you wave on the camera? We been toting
Selling love potion my whole rap career
So your streams and downloads could never match the kids
We could go foreign for foreign until it’s boring
My sheep will keep jumping the fence until you’re snoring
Street poetry, I’m on Wale Folarin
Till the world is mine like Illmatic and Lauryn
Written on the globe
Face to a table full of blow
Fresh powder skiing in the snow
Type of rappers we know
Got the right numbers on a kilo
Burn the the carter down like I’m Nino

[Hook: Pharrell & (Sample)]
Pullin up with the coupe (Oh my goodness)
Must’ve done something with the roof (Oh my goodness)
You see the look of stupid on the stoop (Oh my goodness)
I would take notes if I were you (Oh my goodness)
This was designed with the stars, the square and the cross
So we know true north
Smilin’, with 50 karats in my jaw
Fuck the law
It’s a shame nigga, rhyme, nigga
Love crime

Jumped out of the second floor of a record store
With a Treacherous Four cassette and a cassette recorder
In Ecuador with Edward Norton

Eminem speaks out against Donald Trump on “Campaign Speech”
Witness the metamorphosis
Of a legend growin’ like an expert swordsman
From the Hessian War and
Hence the origin of the Headless Horseman
Born with the endorphins of a pathetic orphan
Endless sores and reservoir
Of extension cords in dresser drawers
And deadbolts on the bedroom doors
And sexual torture kits kept in a separate storage bin
Excellent boyfriend

Use intercourse to settle scores
With women who have been vendettas towards men
Dickhead is forced in and the shredded foreskin
Red is torn and they’re only bein’ fed a portion
Bed sores in sore shins
Pregnant whores can get abortions
Fetish for stickin’ metal forks in, self-absorption
Skeletor, I went to Hell and fell a floor
A predator, I’m headed for competitors
Better warn ’em, what I lack in tact and a set of morals
I make up for in metaphors like a cosmetic store
Stegosaurus, Chuck Norris with a thesaurus
Yes, of course, I mess up once
You want some? Come and get some, boys!
I’m givin’ Daniel Pantaleo a refresher course
On excessive force and pressure points
And dressin’ George Zimmerman in a fluorescent orange
Dress and four inch heels to address the court
With a bullseye on his back, his whole chest and torso
Are left on the doorsteps of Trayvon’s dad as a present for him

In my present form I’m Desert Storm
Appetite for destruction is no suppressant for
Aggressive, forceful, and less remorseful in every morsel
Unpleasant, horrible; hello, gorgeous!
The rebel with devil horns just fell off the yellow short bus
Met a contortionist, said, “When you wanna get sexual?”
She said, “However I fit in your schedule. I’m flexible.”
Expired tags on the Saturn, got Catherine Bach
In the back in Daisy Dukes with the hazards on
At a traffic stop gettin’ harassed, sign an autograph
For this asshole cop’s daughter
Laugh ’cause I called her a brat on it
He spat on it and brought it back lookin’ half in shock
Had a heart attack and dropped dead
Started fallin’ back with it
And got slapped with a Colin Kaepernick practice sock

One ball and half a dick, Apple Watch
Crack for an axle, walked in a Bass Pro Shop with David Hasselhoff, pulled Tabasco sauce out of my satchel
Knocked over a fisherman’s tackle box and *crash sound*
Asked if they had a laugh in stock
That was fuckin’ stupid…

You got it twisted, all ’cause I offered this bitch
A doggie biscuit, you call me misogynistic
Bitch, get to massagin’ this dick!
Like spas in this bitch, slob on it, with gobs of lipstick
Got a shoppin’ list for you to run some odds and ends with
It’s not a bitch on this earth I can be monogamous with
She’s non-existent
Robin Thicke with a throbbin’ dick on some swab and slick shit
But I shout derogatives at bitches like fuckin’ missile launches
Misfit, blond and nitwit
Like I’ve gone ballistic, with a frostin’ tip kit
Screamed, “I hate blondes,” and became one, I’m optimistic
Love to start shit
Shovin’ Clark Kent’s undergarments in the glove compartment
Of the bucket, bumpin’ Bubba Sparxxx
I’m double parkin’ up at Targets, trouble ’cause a double cross
The shadiest mothafucka you’ll ever come across
Olympic gymnast, been known for some assaults
A couple lawsuits, enough to cause a stomach ulcer
Same damn brain scan results as Rainman’s is
Something’s awful when Dustin Hoffman’s
Dressin’ up in your mummy costume
On stage dancin’ to “Brain Damage”, what’s the problem?
Nothing’s wrong, the name brand is back to reclaim status
Run the faucet, I’ma dunk
A bunch of Trump supporters underwater
Snuck up on ’em in Ray Bans in a gray van with a spray tan
It’s a wrap, like an Ace bandage
Don’t-give-a-fuck persona, to my last DNA strand
E&J in the waistband, at the VMAs with the stagehand
She wants kielbasa, pre-arrange an escape plan
Three-inch blade on point, like a See-and-Say
Consider me a dangerous man
But you should be afraid of this dang candidate
You say Trump don’t kiss ass like a puppet
‘Cause he runs his campaign with his own cash for the fundin’
And that’s what you wanted
A fuckin’ loose cannon who’s blunt with his hand on the button, who doesn’t have to answer to no one – great idea!

If I was president, gettin’ off is
The first order of business once I get in office
Second thing that’ll make me happy’s walkin’ up to Uncle Sam
Naked, laughing, dick cupped in hand
Screaming, “Fuck safe sex!”
Throw a latex and an AIDS test at him
Tell Congress I run this land
And I want the rubber banned, and make it snappy
Addiction to friction and static
Addict who can’t escape the habit
It’s in you to chase the dragon
But as fate would have it, I walked up in major Magics
Dressed as the maintenance man
In a laser tag vest and a racin’ jacket, with a gauge to blast it
And sped away in the station wagon
Stacey Dash’s and Casey Anthony’s
Crazy asses in the backseat
Throwin’ Stay-Free pads at me
Dead passenger in the passenger seat
Unfasten the safety latches
And slam on the brakes in traffic so hard
I snapped the relocation brackets for the monster tires
Finna get a murder case and catch it
Like you threw it at me encased in plastic

And send Dylan Roof through the windshield of the Benz
Until he spins like a pinwheel and begins feelin’…
Like a windmill with a thin bill while his skin’s peelin’
And skids ’til he hits a cement pillar
Swing for the fence like Prince Fielder
Knock it into the upper peninsula
You want to go against zilla? The Rap God
When will I quit? Never been realer
The in-stiller of fear, not even a scintilla of doubt
Whose pens iller than Prince in a chinchilla
Or Ben Stiller in a suspense thriller
Revenge killer of bin syllable binge
Fill a syringe, till I
Draw first blood
Even pop shit on my pop shit, and it’s popular
Couldn’t be more awkwarder
Cause you’re innocence I robbed you of
It’s my fingers that got stuck up
Tortured a, not give a
Slapstick, hockey puck
The broad hunter with the sawed off
Like an arm when it’s lopped off of ya
But I’m not gonna, get the shotgun
Or the Glock, I’m gonna opt for the ox
Cause I’m into objects that are sharp when I sharpen
It’s not a shock, I’m such an obnoxious fucker
The rock cuts into rock cause who would have thought
This much of a cocksucker that go across the buttocks of Vivica Fox with a box cutter
That was for 50, little slap on the wrist be warned
I’m unrevealing quickly
My squabbles, I’m grappling with your time traveling with me
Try and follow, as I wobble, relapse into history, with a flask of the whiskey
Tip it back then I’m twisting wine bottles
Like what happened to Chris Reeves’ spine column
That’s the plan of attack when I’m fixing my problems
Wish my chest wasn’t having to get these rhymes off ’em
But the fact that I have so many rappers against me mind boggles
And why I had to come back on these faggots who diss me is
More of a spectacular mystery than a fucking Agatha Christie crime novel

But my patience is wearing thin
Swear I been contemplating rubbing shit in your face till I smear it in
Diss you in every lyric until you fear the pen
And never appear again
If you actually had fucking careers to end
But then I think of Molly Qerim and I steer ’em in that direction and forget my ideas for them
Molly, I’m gone off you
Man, light some kush
You’re my first take, I’ll nail you
Can’t lie, I gush
If I won you over, you would be the grand prize
I’m entranced by your looks, come and give the Shady franchise a push
You can get it in a can like some Anheuser Busch
Jeans too small, least three pant sizes tush
Mushed against your damn side, you puss
And thighs are squooshed
What kind of attires that?
I’m ready to be rode
Psychopath, bet you we’ll get it popping like a flat
Light the match to ignite the wrath
Got knives to slash and slice hermaphrodites in half
Piper Chapmans might just have to picket me
Like a scab
Hard to describe in fact
Startling violent perhaps
Are things that come to mind as soon as I start spitting rhymes like that
And you aren’t really surprised at that
But as far as these lines I rap
And these bars, wouldn’t dial it back if I star 69’ed the track

Why am I such a dick?