Lyrics

Harold!!!! That ninja is getting old!!!, drunk upside down in a barrel!!! Sleeping in his car what? Farrel!! Don’t need no quarrel, a little cold, ninja thinks he’s cold, getting a little bold, he’s got belly!!! Like Santa clause, but he’s never got his music in pause, always blasting!!! Away the competition, with elevation, imagination, correlation, superstition like a police station, yeah fuck them cops, like em ops, black ops like call of duty, she’s got that booty, a little fruity, but she got that booty any ways, her husband Kevin, he never plays, and he is ain’t from heaven, cause he ain’t no saint like Andrew Tate to work ninjas always a little late, my ego my niggas inflate, laid out on my lyrical slate, uhhh, I got my dog, spelt like dawg, cause he got that luck, What the fuck!!!!! Chucky thanks a lot, smoking weed in the parking lot, of the mind, what the fuck a little kind, I got that Picasso kinda mind, one a kind, my lyrical mind, and I need to travel in time, back to when they had coke in coke, I’m that the pope cause I like to smoke!!!! It ain’t no joke, just a random ass bloke, my girls ass I poke, it’s not a joke, it goes down her throat, back on the fishing boat