Oliver Francis - Kids In America lyrics

Yo

Lyrically, I blast back when I smash tracks
Wipe the sweat from on my brow
And turn my Polo cap back
Like Ash Ketchum
I take the beats and I wreck em'
They talkin' down, I'ma check em'
Ain't touchin my beat selection
Nah
Been in the Hyperbolic Time Chamber
Trainin' up
A&R's are blowin' up my phone
But I been hangin' up
We off the shit's, purple weed
I call it Prince
Catch me drippin' in some Tommy
Hilfiger or some Ralph Lauren
My mental state is Professor Charles Xavier
They can hardly lift the mic but for me
That shit is weightless
I was destined for greatness because
I put in the work
This for the kids in they bedroom who
Just don't know what they worth
Yo
"Who the fuck is Oliver?" Bitch
You ain't heard of him?
He'll stick the microphone through
A rapper like shuriken
Yeah, we four deep in the Camry
I flew my team to Miami
That's word to grandpa and daddy
I realized that I can never trade
This quiet life for hedonism
How do these rappers sleep at night
With the way they be living?
Teaching kids that poppin' percocets
And fuckin' bitches
All there is to do in the short
Amount of time that we given
Yo, so while I'm here
I gots to spread the wisdom
The game fucked up
That paper turn you to a victim
Don't let these mothafuckers
Diminish your character
Kim Wilde, we the kids in America
Yo, got lemon pepper on my Polo sweater
I'm coming for whoever
Ain't nobody do it better
Sippin' out a coconut and
Chillin' on the sand
Prolly rollin' through my city while
I'm thumbin' through a band
Man, these artificial limbs
They got me stronger than ever
I'd tear you rappers to shreds if I wanted
Whenever
Ripped knees on my Polo jeans
Flannels like it's '93
Smoking good weed up on the
Beach under the palm trees
Graffiti streets, broken glass, and concrete
Why you lil' rappers always gots
To beef with OG's?
Now we on the top floor
That's the presidential suite
Yo
Nikes On My Feet
That made my cypher complete
Sometimes I rap 'cause I love it
Sometimes I rap for the hell of it
Personality split like Mr. Robot and Elliot
Yeah
My mic check leave you wet like a TEC
Tryna keep the Reaper off me
Crucifix on my neck
Yo
Yeah, that's word to Weezy F. Baby
Been a few years since the kid did wwaavvyy
Bulletproof glass on a G-Class 'Cedes
I'ma do me 'til the day I push daisies
Shouts go out to Ber, shouts go out to Aahj
Shouts go out to every kid
Who worked a shitty job
Y'all can keep the gold chains, pussy
Hop in the whip
Look me in my eyes and tell
Me I ain't body this shit
Bitch

Yo
Oliver
2018, yeah
Whole lotta
Gang shit