Don Frye

[Intro]
Dude, you'll never guess what I just found out, bruh
What'd you find out?

[Verse]
Ayy, guess what I just found out, nobody sleepin' on me
People quiet 'cause I'm clickin' buttons like a dictator, North Korea
Ballistic flow, bigger than the ocean, yo
Can't even use Ukraine to tote them hoes
To bolt the flows, to uphold the opponents
Hocus Pocus pony show means less corny bro
Shit, y'all ain't got no flows
I feel like smackin' an Island Boy like an app pocket got on your phone
Two crab apple lookin' crackers found a Goodwill microphone
Got a Straight Talk card to go viral, mumblin' in hot tubs, gay
On the interwebs no punnanny at your place
And if they are they fake like you with plastic masks on their face
I hope a hurricane come back and lift y'all's tiny ass away
From where you came so your coral reef face don't take up iTunes space, ayy
Ain't no artist worth dissin' anymore
Half these motherfuckers make money from bein' off beat and horribore
Tweet back and forth, hashtaggin' like high school girls
Lyrics lookin' skinny, look he's got bulimia bars
These celebrities got me not even believin' in stars
Their stories sounded like they damaged but I'm seein' no scars
Big comical pussies, I'ma call 'em Calvin and Hobbes
No radio flyer, 'cause I'm flyer than radios y'all
I ain't in the same bracket as no copy and paste
Too many tools on the track, must be signed by Harbor Freight
And I got the fuel of eight trains, ate so many rappers I shit gold chains
And I'm the cannibal to the game like critical thinkin' with they brains
Hip-Hop DNA is all in my veins, bloodhound sniffin' all 808's
Hungry give me all of y'all's plates, tattoo the art of rap on my face
In the two-tone, too lit, got two phones
Too many genres in my vocals, I think my skin got two tones
My brain a nuke zone, if you thrive then leave me 'lone
Diss me then you'll have to pack and rap to find a new home
A hurricane spitter, no ceilings like the roof gone
Industry fucked up watch 'em make it rain with coupons
Man I go so hard I have a haters chick an octave off
Keep it poppin' car exhaust, colder parkin' lot is frost
No DM when I'm slidin' 'cause the ones in there slidin' off
Dope sight, vision got dumb sight, Don Frye his jaw
Like night-night when you're standin' in the octagon
A lot of pussies in the game, I've rapped battled two octomoms
Fuck the track, won't you come get smacked by the autobahn
I'll drown 'em in their own flow but it seems the faucet's always off

[Outro]
Up-mother-fuckin'-church
Brrtt
Woo, woo