We just hit record once again
Gotta
It's CRB
Back on you bitches
Stop playing with me
He a baboon on his monkey business
Dancin with a spoon
What a funky witness
What you get?
Banana split of your banana bread
You're not an artist or your own brand
I fade martyrs, with my two hands
Just a shadow in your own group
Your worst offence Your future plans
Worth 50 cents and a headband
Can't even sell out a show, I bought front row
Played your cards all in one go
Tryna be buddy buddy while I slow roll
Dope in your moniker
Be smokin crack
So outta pocket
Boy, It's comin back
Vomitin words you haven't heard
So you can put em on wax
That's what you call a dope track?
Average Joe with a Budden career
Give you three years, disappear
You smokin pesticides
That's why you got our brains fried
Ideas and independent seas
(What is this boy talkin about)
No fees just to sail a stream
No business creeds
Cuz all you sell is dreams
So many snakes in the grass
So many snakes I amassed
I'm eatin off they heads
So they run in a flash
I'm cleaning all the weeds
I gotta run it back
I gotta run it back
Boy I run it back
So many snakes in the grass
So many snakes I amassed
I'm eatin off they heads
So they run in a flash
I'm cleaning all the weeds
I gotta run it back
I gotta run it back
Still run it back
Is you looking or you just passin by
I served dinner past yo bedtime
You a winner hangin with sinners
Bendin for past
You a nerd with a wreckin nerve
To diss me
Huh
I give birth to pussies
You mimicking
Yea
It's a pantomime
That's how you pen a rhyme
No substance in your braggin lies
I don't believe what you sayin
Trap artist, but you f*cking playin
Glorifying, played to your strengths
So it makes sense
Turned a passion into a livin
Just to pay rent
Live free in your head
Antisocial g
You depressed
You eat shit like it's fast food
You just workin in a fast food
In your music, go fast food
This ain't art, it's just fast food
Eat shit like it's fast food
You just workin in a fast food
In your music, go fast food
This ain't art, it's fast food
CRBRVS - BEAT ON A BRAT Lyrics
CRBRVS - BEAT ON A BRAT Lyrics
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English
We just hit record once again
Gotta
It's CRB
Back on you bitches
Stop playing with me
He a baboon on his monkey business
Dancin with a spoon
What a funky witness
What you get?
Banana split of your banana bread
You're not an artist or your own brand
I fade martyrs, with my two hands
Just a shadow in your own group
Your worst offence Your future plans
Worth 50 cents and a headband
Can't even sell out a show, I bought front row
Played your cards all in one go
Tryna be buddy buddy while I slow roll
Dope in your moniker
Be smokin crack
So outta pocket
Boy, It's comin back
Vomitin words you haven't heard
So you can put em on wax
That's what you call a dope track?
Average Joe with a Budden career
Give you three years, disappear
You smokin pesticides
That's why you got our brains fried
Ideas and independent seas
(What is this boy talkin about)
No fees just to sail a stream
No business creeds
Cuz all you sell is dreams
So many snakes in the grass
So many snakes I amassed
I'm eatin off they heads
So they run in a flash
I'm cleaning all the weeds
I gotta run it back
I gotta run it back
Boy I run it back
So many snakes in the grass
So many snakes I amassed
I'm eatin off they heads
So they run in a flash
I'm cleaning all the weeds
I gotta run it back
I gotta run it back
Still run it back
Is you looking or you just passin by
I served dinner past yo bedtime
You a winner hangin with sinners
Bendin for past
You a nerd with a wreckin nerve
To diss me
Huh
I give birth to pussies
You mimicking
Yea
It's a pantomime
That's how you pen a rhyme
No substance in your braggin lies
I don't believe what you sayin
Trap artist, but you f*cking playin
Glorifying, played to your strengths
So it makes sense
Turned a passion into a livin
Just to pay rent
Live free in your head
Antisocial g
You depressed
You eat shit like it's fast food
You just workin in a fast food
In your music, go fast food
This ain't art, it's just fast food
Eat shit like it's fast food
You just workin in a fast food
In your music, go fast food
This ain't art, it's fast food
Gotta
It's CRB
Back on you bitches
Stop playing with me
He a baboon on his monkey business
Dancin with a spoon
What a funky witness
What you get?
Banana split of your banana bread
You're not an artist or your own brand
I fade martyrs, with my two hands
Just a shadow in your own group
Your worst offence Your future plans
Worth 50 cents and a headband
Can't even sell out a show, I bought front row
Played your cards all in one go
Tryna be buddy buddy while I slow roll
Dope in your moniker
Be smokin crack
So outta pocket
Boy, It's comin back
Vomitin words you haven't heard
So you can put em on wax
That's what you call a dope track?
Average Joe with a Budden career
Give you three years, disappear
You smokin pesticides
That's why you got our brains fried
Ideas and independent seas
(What is this boy talkin about)
No fees just to sail a stream
No business creeds
Cuz all you sell is dreams
So many snakes in the grass
So many snakes I amassed
I'm eatin off they heads
So they run in a flash
I'm cleaning all the weeds
I gotta run it back
I gotta run it back
Boy I run it back
So many snakes in the grass
So many snakes I amassed
I'm eatin off they heads
So they run in a flash
I'm cleaning all the weeds
I gotta run it back
I gotta run it back
Still run it back
Is you looking or you just passin by
I served dinner past yo bedtime
You a winner hangin with sinners
Bendin for past
You a nerd with a wreckin nerve
To diss me
Huh
I give birth to pussies
You mimicking
Yea
It's a pantomime
That's how you pen a rhyme
No substance in your braggin lies
I don't believe what you sayin
Trap artist, but you f*cking playin
Glorifying, played to your strengths
So it makes sense
Turned a passion into a livin
Just to pay rent
Live free in your head
Antisocial g
You depressed
You eat shit like it's fast food
You just workin in a fast food
In your music, go fast food
This ain't art, it's just fast food
Eat shit like it's fast food
You just workin in a fast food
In your music, go fast food
This ain't art, it's fast food
Writer: Andrei Cerga
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid