[Intro]

Mister Spice God please there's children present don't do it to 'em!

FLEXO!

[Verse 1]

It’s a wrap, I am suran

Food chains, cuz I ate the man

Y'all hate cuz I ain't the man

Tough shit, portrait cuz I paint the man-

Mah mah mah mah masterpiece

Y'all get mad when I thrashin beats

But y'all just lack the factors

They put me on the backs of tractors

On my grind, macadamia nut

Mackin a dame and I nut

Light in the tunnel attracting the bugs

Playin clubs like a putt putt

Your mom like me more than the butt stuff

When I post up, hit a poster, break the glass when I toast ya

Most ya can't get to the holsta ‘fore I come and expose ya using Holga

And I make it so colder, you in more layers than an ogre- frigid

Rufflin so many god damn feathers y'all think I got- ridges

Over y’all, constructing up bridges

Got y’all flockin to me, pigeons

And you know I’m gonna get there

No ifs, ands, buts, like a derriere

I’m that boy from the dairy ar-ea

Not my type, like it fuckin Arial

The font and the princess

Out here with croissants, not biscuits

I don’t have fuckin time for you nit-wits

You nit-pick with no lick of wit

You tip-toe the grit and say “get legit”

You don’t get the pits, the bits that so fit

If you look at the whole, warts and all with zits, it’s crazy

Now I’m getting love from the lady’s

Wet willies, to my willy being wet

No regrets

Put the V-P together like Pence

Fuck G-RATED, FLEXO gettin sworn in

[Skit]

Dude, what are you doing?

Just making a little flex track, you like it?

No, this is terrible. I-I-I

What are you talking about, did you see the word play?

Yeah, but that’s not the point. This isn’t us dude and you know it

Yeah, but maybe it can be us

It’s not. And I just can’t believe you’re doing this. It’s all the common rap stuff I thought we agreed we weren’t going to do

You know, I think that’s very hypocritical considering that you set this song up, created me as a flexy alt-ego, just as an excuse to get off some bars you thought of that you know you couldn’t say if not for an elaborate excuse like this

Fuck. I guess you’r-

And worst of all is you think that this conversation somehow makes you feel better just by admitting how bad this all is. AND this conversation damages the songs mood and makes it hard to listen to, no replayability!

OK. OK. Look, I-

Dude just let me finish the song

OK. Go for it

[Verse 2]

I’m an envelope, a straight white male wrappin

Y’all don’t feel right, wiping ass with napkins

Fact is, they a buck a piece

I’m Buckingham, in a palace in peace

I got the Jimmies, make em Fallon their knees

I dot my eyes and cross my enemies

Know my ABC’s cuz man I’m DEF a G

H-I, texted to the game, it reply

What you up to, send some bars *bing*

Uhhh J-K bye

Like Mike’s Nikes, Over Powered, LMNOP

The rest of it don't fuckin matter, X is all you need

You're in the past now

You'll need salvation, you're passed down

My deviations got em smacking their hands now

Don't you fuckin mediate callin hand fouls

The game is so vast now

So many cash cows

So many assholes

So much hype I just can't fuckin get bashful

I'm the most humble human in both hemispheres

Had to mumble when i saw her with both heavy spheres

I’ve been better, you bed wetter you got hella fears

I’m the fuckin black shadow in your nightmares

Clutchin a mic I smite knights, and I’m drummin up frights

If I’m a muthafuckin cracker take a bite

Ya chews me

Y’all just bad, I’m bougie

People better than me? That’s a doozy

Watchin Ratatouille:

What... Are you eating?

I don't really know. I think it was some sort of... rapper once

HA-HA-HA relatable

Just checked your bio, degradable

The bar-burr got em like say no more

I got the team on my back, you tradeable

Yeah, and I got em lookin at me now

As I pull up to the scene like ni hao

You're as much as the new clothes, emperor

I'm very nice, fair in height, temperature

And y'all can't attest when a jest occur

And you seem cavalier when I best-a-Kerr

With these bars, lines, charts, you could say I Excel

It’s either “I’m hot”, ore Cu in hell

But we just don’t need the coppers involved

Song full of throwaways, like Rodgers with ball

Stone’s throw away, from the greatest of all

Y’aaall don't even know what I got coming

My bars a mitzvah, I ain't kiddin, this the Kiddush luncheon

But just to be clear, bitch, I don't cater

Fuck G-RATED, so cheesy go get the cheese grater

Flows these days all eyyyy’s we need some stricter graders

Bullshit, no-wit, like the kicky faders

So fresh I hopped out the incubator

So yes I'll have my cake and eat it now and later

I’m hoppin in their heads like a Koopa Troopa

Fun fact: my autobio is the kama sutra

Endin this one, too much sauce and not ‘nuff pasta

You can't sell me, I do it like it it's Futurama

Bender over and Flexo take the wheel

And you know I Phil Swift cuz damn this flex sealed

I’m out!

[Outro]

I'm out!

I'm out!

Fuckin FLEXO

Fuck [redacted] I'm out!

FLEXO

I'm twistin' up yo bitch like a pretzel!