Electric Scooter Funk

[Verse 1]
In public, put you on the line
I got no time, all you do is wine
Make me feel some type, of way (aye)
This (yeah) is a waste of my time
I don't need this to talk about love anymore
If you felt some type of way
I wouldn't write any more R&B songs
Or any more pop songs (hey, you)

[Verse 1]
I'm a lyrical a spiritual an individual rapper
Campa don't give up a fuck, get the money
Get the money, get the money, get the money
Got 420, 20k oh-wee
30 weeks, been 30 weeks since
I'd been grinding on this music day
Don't you see how many albums I put on my streaming platforms?
Don't care (uh) I'm not about the stats
I'm not about the rats, I'm not about to slap
I'm about to clap on this beat
Old school reminds of me Biggie Smalls
Shout out to the realist
Everyone got their own thang going, even the cops
I don't even mind (hey)
I don't even have time (you, hey, hey)

[Verse 2]
I get told I should hold my tongue
Just because I’m young, doesn’t mean I’m dumb
I can do this just for fun
And make this shit pop like bubblegum (haha)
Lyrics weigh, about a ton, been on this since I was eleven
Now mum look what I become, the lyrical executioner
Critical revolutionary, to hip hop pioneers
Ticktock, check the clock
My face is on that shit, give us lift off
Before I hit the tip-top, make sure the beats gets hot
If you wanna hear, what I got
Make sure you wait for the drop (yeah)

[Outro]
Like I’m dying tomorrow (hey) to end my families sorrow (you)
With skill so I don’t have to borrow, little cash
Little money, hit the dash (mm, hey, hey)