Testo di 'Hasty' di Syndrome

What bitch 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 back talk 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 bank note
Better take notes, I been all about a bank roll
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 lunch time
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 you 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

Fuck that nigga
Fuck that nigga and run