Coup De Gráce

Ay

They wanna know where 6 at (6 at)
When I hit 'em with this track, they will likely retire (uh)
The fact is I hate rappers as well
I'd rather battle myself and fight fire with fire (fire)
When I'm sayin' that my song'll amaze ya

What I'm tryna say is you'll get lost in it, ayy, bruh
Honestly, with the quality we droppin'
If you wanna degrade us, it's gotta be A+ (woo)

I ain't listenin' to hip-hop these days
Everybody just a bunch of hip-hop clichés (true)
Go ahead and buy my shit off eBay
I'm here to break records like a pissed off DJ (snap)
Yeah, I can tell it in your melon
You developin' a habit, better gallop into rehab (rehab), uh
I'm a fella with the manners, not a felon
I'm a Khaled, I'ma tell 'em where the keys at (another one)
I can smell it, where the weed at?
Honestly, homie, yo, I can tell you gonna relapse, relax

You're a dope fiend for the codeine
You're a Fat Joe fan, got you yellin' for the lean back

Haha, coup de grâce, coup de grâce
Anyone can get it, I don't care who you are (uh-uh)
Coup de grâce, coup de grâce
I don't give a fuck who you are

I've been lookin' around

But I still haven't found my place
That's why you see me drift off into outer space (haha)
All you down-to-earth rappers can eat sour grapes
Or a sour steak, my whole fuckin' fridge is out of date
I rocked up to the studio an hour late (yep)
And snuck in like, "Hey guys, it's soundin' great"
I swear to God, I hear another of you welterweight
Rappers who all sound the same and
There'll be fuckin' hell to pay (man)

I'm feelin' back in my element
Like I'm channellin' the devil, writin' rap for the hell of it (woo)
To remind these motherfuckers that I'm actually talented
I don't want to but I have to keep tellin' 'em (what's up?)
I can pad this verse out with lyrics that are six years old
'Cause I wrote better shit than you
When I was six years old (it's true)
All you rappers from the new school who just enrolled
If you don't know that I'm the shit, then you just been told (bitch)

Coup de grâce, coup de grâce
Anyone can get it, I don't care who you are (I don't though)
Yeah, coup de grâce, coup de grâce
I don't give a fuck who you are

Yeah, you ain't sicker than this fidgety bitch (nah)
Lickety-split, stick to the script
And play the role you're given (yep)
Thinkin' your shit's bigger than this, no, it isn't
I'ma put your head in a box, boy, you go missin'
I got a chick and I ain't talkin' 'bout a Palmer Rae
Pull-out game strong, I ain't comin' to your party, mate (uh-uh)
Mad at the buzz, your alarm is late
Reverse Kanga, this shit is hard to take
Look, decided it's finally time for bravado

Line after line after line like a barcode (uh-huh)
You trash cunts, you ain't worth the work
So go and pull yourself together like a circle jerk, motherfuckers

Coup de grâce, coup de grâce (uh)
Anyone can get it, I don't care who you are (yeah)
Coup de grâce, coup de grâce
I don't give a fuck who you are (nope)

Man, coup de grâce, coup de grâce
Anyone can get it, I don't care who you are
Uh, coup de grâce, coup de grâce
I don't give a fuck who you are

Man, I'm doin' shit my own way

I'm kickin' bubblegum and chewin' ass (yeah)

Slide into your studio inside a Uber car (skrrt)
Jumpin' out with two bazookas and a suit of armour
Blew apart the booth and puff a doobie, go to Zumba class
You ain't the sickest, you're a hypochondriac

So just loosen up (relax), go get some juice and a chicken noodle cup

I got a pandemic flu and I'm pukin' up blood
Full of AIDS, the bubonic plague and a case of whoopin' cough

Jumpin' Jupiter, who would ever assume

That the goofiest kid in school woulda grew to be even stupider?
Screw the tutor, I'm huffin' a tube of glue in a cubicle
Ate a urinal cake and I think it's caught on my uvula
All I wanted to do was to rap and improve and do better (yeah)
Boostin' up all my skills, feel like
You didn't get the newsletter (nah)
Now I just wanna ruin your buzz, I'm a fuckin' mood killer (yeah)
You should evacuate from the place 'cause I'm goin' nuclear
So fuck bein' the sharpest tool in the shed
I just grab it and stab your crew with it

Who want it? Psh, I'll fuckin' ruin ya

Takin' your cash cow and I grill it and serve it back to ya
There's some barbecue rap for ya, chew it up, it's the coup de grâce