I have snapbacks, no tattoos.
You're trash when I pass you.
My flashbacks make hashtags, it's class over swag dude.

I'm past that. No drug use.

My backpack's my nap sack with notepads of past acts, pen packed back with launch fuel (x2)


Yo I $#&@ swag, I keep class.
Run 3 laps 'round these !@$)s.

Just one take, for $#&@'s sake, I breathe easy, you breathe grass.
I love when that %#@! keeps happening.
You're so high so keep rapping it.

My rhymes seduce so recap it, while you inhale so keep laughing.
Swag has brought me no fame.
My style blows up like propane.

My flow we call so insane, we can't feel yours like novacain.
You all act like street thugs, I find that %#@! hilarious.
Anything for #~!!@ like screaming "Astronaut, come burry us!"