Yung Garfield, Emily Finchum - Better Flex Charts lyrics
[Yung Garfield, Emily Finchum - Better Flex Charts lyrics]
Why you being so nice to me
Nice to me, nice to me, what's with that?
You died for me, lied for me
Lay your body on train tracks baby
I do not deserve your kindness
Why do you even bother?
You’re too good for me, good for
Me, good for me, and that's that
Past the oven actual microwave
Oh yeah, i'm not a clown like James Charles
But I can eat- I can have sex
With my cat like Shane Dawson
You know that i’m not cappin'
You know I love Lil AK Trap
His song Dope is very good
Emily Finchum and me on this track
You know that your verses are poop
And you know i'm a great rapper
I make trap and you make-
From the unknown i ran away
I don't think I'm coming back home
Whoa-whoa-whoa-whoa-whoa-whoa
Like a crawlspace, it's a dark place I roam
Ain't no right way, just the wrong way I know
I problem-solve with Styrofoam
My world revolves around a black hole
I'm through with standing in line to
Clubs I’ll never get in
It’s like the bottom of the ninth
And I'm never gonna win
This life hasn’t turned out quite the
Way I want it to be i want a brand new house
On an episode of Cribs
And a bathroom I can play baseball in
And a king size tub big
Enough for ten plus me i'll need a
A credit card that's got no limit
And a big black jet with a bedroom in it
Gonna join the mile high club
At thirty-seven thousand feet i want a-
Crazy cash, sick cash tell me
What am I gonna do with all this money?
Stupid cash, retarded cash tell me
What am I gonna do with all this money?
Nice to me, nice to me, what's with that?
You died for me, lied for me
Lay your body on train tracks baby
I do not deserve your kindness
Why do you even bother?
You’re too good for me, good for
Me, good for me, and that's that
Past the oven actual microwave
Oh yeah, i'm not a clown like James Charles
But I can eat- I can have sex
With my cat like Shane Dawson
You know that i’m not cappin'
You know I love Lil AK Trap
His song Dope is very good
Emily Finchum and me on this track
You know that your verses are poop
And you know i'm a great rapper
I make trap and you make-
From the unknown i ran away
I don't think I'm coming back home
Whoa-whoa-whoa-whoa-whoa-whoa
Like a crawlspace, it's a dark place I roam
Ain't no right way, just the wrong way I know
I problem-solve with Styrofoam
My world revolves around a black hole
I'm through with standing in line to
Clubs I’ll never get in
It’s like the bottom of the ninth
And I'm never gonna win
This life hasn’t turned out quite the
Way I want it to be i want a brand new house
On an episode of Cribs
And a bathroom I can play baseball in
And a king size tub big
Enough for ten plus me i'll need a
A credit card that's got no limit
And a big black jet with a bedroom in it
Gonna join the mile high club
At thirty-seven thousand feet i want a-
Crazy cash, sick cash tell me
What am I gonna do with all this money?
Stupid cash, retarded cash tell me
What am I gonna do with all this money?