[prod. by Brircks On Da Beat]

[Intro]

Oye, oye (oye, oye)

Bad Vibes From Backpack

Still lookin' for hate, aye

You think it's save but it's mess

Step on your ne-ne-ne-ne-ne-ne-ne, oye

(Bricks On Da Beat)

Hey!

Talkin' the pictures, I'm talkin' a witcher

I'm paintin' and paintin', I'm paintin' a picture

It is gonna hit you, I don't need no feature

I am myself teachin', 'cause my teachers been snitchin'

You bitchin' then switchin' then preach something's itchin'

I'm twitchin' the pitcher with horrible creatures and with y'all

They eat you, I'm laughin', I'm happy they'll beat you

Two bites and no issue, no issue, no issue

[Verse 1]

First picture's out where you all on your knees (woo)

Two bitches proud when they suck on these dicks (woo)

Three quinces in Rakia, two shots they so sleaze (oh)

Four wheeler like cum, it runs over their lips (oh)

Five words off her mouth that I wanna squeeze (woo)

Six star hotels but it's all in their dreams (woo)

Seven's the number goes after the six (oh)

Eightballers at school, now their fathers are seized (aye)

[Hook]

Go far away, bitch ass boy

You know I hate every local hoe

Not doin' both trap and math, oye

Step on your grave like on grass, oye

Go far away, bitch ass boy

You know I hate every local hoe

Not doin' both trap and math, oye

Step on your grave like on grass, oye

[verse 2]

One plus one is the amount of shots that I do

Two plus two, all the seasons I'm through, aye

Three plus three, that's local rappers' IQ

Four plus four, oral sex that's your ho, oye

Five plus five, my punchlines like mirage

Six plus six and plus nine, twenty one and garage

Seven plus seven, down to go to the C for massage?

Eight plus eight, MTV show's on montage

Catchin' them vibes through my auidos

Matchin' the size, a lot on her nose

All of my reasons that no one knows

I plus, you count, see I am your boss (sauce)

God damn, you too agressive right now

Not dissin' you is a blessin' somehow (how?)

Peers in my town are dressin' like cows

Piss on your tongue, all pressing's allowed, oh

[Hook]

Go far away, bitch ass boy

You know I hate every local hoe

Not doin' both trap and math, oye

Step on your grave like on grass, oye

Go far away, bitch ass boy

You know I hate every local hoe

Not doin' both trap and math, oye

Step on your grave like on grass, oye

[Verse 3]

I was sent like sand to make history, mystery

Last band in my hand, what I need is is money, is money

Fuck money, this my day, fuck a tag (Bricks On Da Beat), oye

Whatever you'll love or rep, I promise to go against it

No matter and weather is a glove or a net, I'll take it off

I'm too tensed up, I'm lit

Your bitch she gon' swallow every letter I spit, ooh

Speak to me dirt like I do to you

Sick of all of you moral fags

This is not rock, that's some rap, boo

I can't obstain from callin' your mother a slut

Just because you don't think so, boo

You just got mad 'cause I just told you the truth, boo

Ice comes from the fire in booth, oye

Our relationship has come to a point when I wanna lose, boo

[Hook]

Go far away, bitch ass boy

You know I hate every local hoe

Not doin' both trap and math, oye

Step on your grave like on grass, oye

Go far away, bitch ass boy

You know I hate every local hoe

Not doin' both trap and math, oye

Step on your grave like on grass, oye