Uh
Sissy pissy pussy pamper
Peter Piper picked a pepper
Why yo mood changin' like the goddamn weather?
I know who you is and you ain't f*ckin' with this
It's like you D1 hating chattin' speeches calling me shit
Why?
Bitch why (why bitch?)
Why you gotta lie
The only way to shut you up is with money and supplies
Not calling you fat but you be eatin' up my shit
You stealing my earrings from every single hit
Young mothaf*cka named Kris Queso
He's only 17 but he make these flows
Makin' them beats on a shitty iPhone
And remember
That he got no
Logic!
Regardless
He remain a pro
No Able though he make a ton of beats
Songs and he play them on repeat
And he discreet
Kris just got a laptop
So now he can finally record
It's a new sheet new slate
New week day go by
And he working on beats
Ain't got a bitch in my sheets
The only thing in em' is my mind when I sleep
Uh
Shit I mean
This my third song on my laptop
So it's whatever (uh)
Shut the f*ck up
Kris Queso
School's nearly out
Now it's time to earn that clout
While I'm in school
I been usin' beats pre-made for now
But it's nearly time to work on my mixtape
And it's sublime
Sublime?
F*ck!
And I'm sick of you faggots crying bout my lines
Ion' want you faggots takin' up all my time
Cause all you do is whine act like it's a crime
Y'all won't let me earn a dime
Like f*ck let me reach my prime
Tell me what's wrong with bitches these days?
They want a guy to make millions
Trillions quadrillions
When they can't cook for shit
They just be talking shit instead
Call me a sped but I read
Said that this ain't it
Saw left you on delivered
My flow be flowin' like a river
Yo bitch pussy I'm a swimmer
And I'm a winner
F*ck with me
Kris Queso
On yo radio
F*ck y'all uh
Yeah
Kris Queso - YAPPERSMITH Lyrics
Kris Queso - YAPPERSMITH Lyrics
Official
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English
Uh
Sissy pissy pussy pamper
Peter Piper picked a pepper
Why yo mood changin' like the goddamn weather?
I know who you is and you ain't f*ckin' with this
It's like you D1 hating chattin' speeches calling me shit
Why?
Bitch why (why bitch?)
Why you gotta lie
The only way to shut you up is with money and supplies
Not calling you fat but you be eatin' up my shit
You stealing my earrings from every single hit
Young mothaf*cka named Kris Queso
He's only 17 but he make these flows
Makin' them beats on a shitty iPhone
And remember
That he got no
Logic!
Regardless
He remain a pro
No Able though he make a ton of beats
Songs and he play them on repeat
And he discreet
Kris just got a laptop
So now he can finally record
It's a new sheet new slate
New week day go by
And he working on beats
Ain't got a bitch in my sheets
The only thing in em' is my mind when I sleep
Uh
Shit I mean
This my third song on my laptop
So it's whatever (uh)
Shut the f*ck up
Kris Queso
School's nearly out
Now it's time to earn that clout
While I'm in school
I been usin' beats pre-made for now
But it's nearly time to work on my mixtape
And it's sublime
Sublime?
F*ck!
And I'm sick of you faggots crying bout my lines
Ion' want you faggots takin' up all my time
Cause all you do is whine act like it's a crime
Y'all won't let me earn a dime
Like f*ck let me reach my prime
Tell me what's wrong with bitches these days?
They want a guy to make millions
Trillions quadrillions
When they can't cook for shit
They just be talking shit instead
Call me a sped but I read
Said that this ain't it
Saw left you on delivered
My flow be flowin' like a river
Yo bitch pussy I'm a swimmer
And I'm a winner
F*ck with me
Kris Queso
On yo radio
F*ck y'all uh
Yeah
Sissy pissy pussy pamper
Peter Piper picked a pepper
Why yo mood changin' like the goddamn weather?
I know who you is and you ain't f*ckin' with this
It's like you D1 hating chattin' speeches calling me shit
Why?
Bitch why (why bitch?)
Why you gotta lie
The only way to shut you up is with money and supplies
Not calling you fat but you be eatin' up my shit
You stealing my earrings from every single hit
Young mothaf*cka named Kris Queso
He's only 17 but he make these flows
Makin' them beats on a shitty iPhone
And remember
That he got no
Logic!
Regardless
He remain a pro
No Able though he make a ton of beats
Songs and he play them on repeat
And he discreet
Kris just got a laptop
So now he can finally record
It's a new sheet new slate
New week day go by
And he working on beats
Ain't got a bitch in my sheets
The only thing in em' is my mind when I sleep
Uh
Shit I mean
This my third song on my laptop
So it's whatever (uh)
Shut the f*ck up
Kris Queso
School's nearly out
Now it's time to earn that clout
While I'm in school
I been usin' beats pre-made for now
But it's nearly time to work on my mixtape
And it's sublime
Sublime?
F*ck!
And I'm sick of you faggots crying bout my lines
Ion' want you faggots takin' up all my time
Cause all you do is whine act like it's a crime
Y'all won't let me earn a dime
Like f*ck let me reach my prime
Tell me what's wrong with bitches these days?
They want a guy to make millions
Trillions quadrillions
When they can't cook for shit
They just be talking shit instead
Call me a sped but I read
Said that this ain't it
Saw left you on delivered
My flow be flowin' like a river
Yo bitch pussy I'm a swimmer
And I'm a winner
F*ck with me
Kris Queso
On yo radio
F*ck y'all uh
Yeah
Writer: Kristian Polumirac
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid
Copyright: Lyrics © O/B/O DistroKid