Hasty

What nigga says he's going to be a fucking rapper?
 Are you kidding me?
 That's how you're gonna fucking support your family?
 You don't got any subscribers on YouTube
 Are you fucking kidding me?
 You have no subscribers
 So how the fuck you gonna support a family-
 Hey-hey-hey, he has ten
 I remember days at my grandma's house
 Sleeping on the couch, whole fam' on the ground
 Dirty lil' bitch in the backtalk down
 But her friend sent a pic with her ass all out
 Got 'em all mad, get a bag, you broke
 I been off that, it's sad, you know?
 Seen you on the Gram', stand back, bitch pose
 I'm about to shoot a mag, click-clack, you vogue
 Said you don't need a scrub, that's why you a stank hoe
 I don't do the club, rather pull up to the bank, hoe
 You won't get a crumb from me, pockets on that Panko
 Shawty want the love, feeling up like it's the tank low
 Lame hoe, better lay low
 Looking like a peso, keeping it a banknote
 Better take notes, I been all about a bankroll
 Check the payroll, I'm an a-hole, but I ain't broke
 Lately, I been like, "Fuck you, pay me"
 Hate me all you want, bitch, go crazy
 Ladies all on my dick, too hasty
 Save me, all of them want my baby
 Daily motherfuckers talk fugazi, shady
 Talk shit? Bitch, 180
 Face me, nothing you say gon' phase me
 Wake me when somebody don't betray me
 Long time comin' and I'm better than I ever been
 And I got my team on my back like a letterman
 They ain't wanna let him in
 Left me in the rain with the mic, something like I was a weatherman
 Running up the paper like the pacer
 Torn ripped Chuck Taylors, the fits tailored
 Treat a bitch like Tracer, never chase her
 Fuck the game, I could knock it up the way I'm puttin' in labor
 Now run it back one time
 I was down bad, but it runs in the bloodline
 Shoot it out back, think it's done, but it ducked by
 I would shout, "Dad" but nobody once come by
 Never been a tough guy, never sold work, 'cause I did it
 Yeah, I bust mine but got hella friends moving tree like a mudslide
 Bussing motherfuckers like a table when it's lunchtime
 So without rap, you would see me in the front lines
 I'm that motherfucker used to being in the background
 No one understood me, now they feel me like a pat-down
 Once was a rookie but got a bag now
 Hip-hop champ, need the belt like a bad child
 No time for bitches who wanna act out
 Or these motherfuckers befriendin' me for a handout
 What I need is when I look into that crowd
 To see your head bob like a bitch when I glance down
 I know you mad, I know you still want me back
 I know you keepin' them tabs on all of my raps
 That shit is pathetic in fact, that shit is embarrassin'
 Talk to your therapist, you and yo' mama can suck a fat hairy dick
 Where was the parenting? Choke on yo' arrogance
 Me and yo' money, there ain't no comparison
 Ha-ha-ha, yo
 Ah-hah-hah
 Fuck that n-