Nacho Picasso - Mob Ties lyrics

Got mob ties, like Mob Wives
I'm traumatized, Steve Jobs died
My mom's high, and I'm hog tied
Im pop-eye to these pop guys
I pop like a pop fly
Plastic fork on the pot pie
I'm a Gremlin, not a Mogwai
I'm a bad guy, never on time

I'm getting money, listen
Commission Kyle Grisham
I feel like Sonny Liston
Old head, like "sonny, listen"
No braiding bummy missions
Oh head, I see your vision
You can't see ambition
You're lacking ammunition
Like a Contra code, something golden
Something rolled
Something borrowed or something old
Something new, or something stolen
Fuck your parents, lose control
Sex, drugs, and rock and roll
Fuck your diet, rocky road
Yo Adrian, that's Rocky's ho
I make it rain, she pop it though
You're trafficking, no stop and go go
My African's so tropical
I laugh at you, so comical
On Twitter I'm so topical
Tatted up abdominal
All my snowmen abominable
I tell them hoes to vamanos adios!

That's Nacho bitch that's Nacho change
Consider a lot of shit done
Changed since Nacho came that's Nacho friend
That's Nacho bitch see the world a lot
Different through Nacho's lense
That's Nacho car this Nacho town
I done made my own name, that's Nacho style
That's Nacho's chips that's Nacho rich
Everybody stop and listen when Nacho spit's

My father's Dirty Harry
My mother's Bloody Marry
I don't believe in fairies
Police are Tom & Jerry
My bitches wanna square me
Seen bitches that'll share me
My pregnant miss is bare feet
Your brother does not scare me

And I'm not all that, 26 grams
Two in the air, I'm going HAM
Who wanna stare, new to the spare
Like Gucci LaFlare
The Gucci I wear, the coochie I tear
The bougie ass groupies with
Roofies out there its like goofing off boofy
Ass niggas like Cher
There, life is not fair, I do not care, yeah
She got postpartum, decompose darling
In my rose garden, my favorite show starting
And you're co-starring, as a ghost Cartman
She had a lot of niggers
But I'm the most charming
I got a baby face, but I'm the most harming
See ya lady’s face, Darigold carton
Tell Tale Heart, scary old apartment
Keep my pistol loaded
And my machete sharpened