JPEGMAFIA - CULT STATUS

One, two One, two Uh, one, two! This is cult status, you dealin' with known addicts America made choppers, you beefin', we split yo' cabbage Standin' next to the stars, it's funny, 'cause you a asterisk When you break up with yo' hoe, we gon' pin that bitch to the mattress Bitch niggas be thinkin' they jokes be hittin', they be strainin' I can't be seen with you worm niggas, y'all need trainin' Born into money, got more money, then start complainin' Shoulda kept it online or end up in terminal condi' Ay, Peg in this new bag, tell me who bad Before we get wavy, let's start off with somethin' for durags Ain't seen a barbershop in years, where Cube at? And if I gotta push you to edge, you're gettin' lined up with a new tag, bitch They send shots and act surprised when they get grazed Run to the internet, they'll believe you, you'll get glazed I seen yo' splits, bitch, shit talk don't pay Unless you was good enough to shit-talk yo' way to Ye The rush from provin' y'all wrong, nothin' above it Looked at my family tree and saw sleep was my favorite cousin My rewards, they don't come from awards, niggas is bored My percentage over the number like QWERTY keyboards How the fuck is niggas talkin' 'bout my fits ain't clean? Pray to the almighty Sosa and to DJ Scream Now, look, it's critical, I flip the sample like Bobby Digital Money over bitches, 'cause bitches, they come in intervals This is cult status, you dealin' with known addicts America made choppers, you beefin', we split yo' cabbage Standin' next to the stars, it's funny, 'cause you a asterisk When you break up with yo' hoe, we gon' pin that bitch to the mattress Bitch niggas be thinkin' they jokes be hittin', they be strainin' I can't be seen with you worm niggas, y'all need trainin' Born into money, got more money, then start complainin' Shoulda kept it online or end up in terminal condi' Since Pitchfork fell off, the yuppies been goin' through it Gossipin' like some bitches and playin' catch up in music You rappin' like backpackers, don't sell no more, it's confusin' The crack be hittin' like Whitney, I'm pistol-packin' in Houston She caught me jerk eatin' at that Jamaican spot Can't wait to pop, park a big body up in ya vacant lot Best production, you don't say me? I tell a hater, "Stop" But, when you El Presidente, niggas debate a lot Uh, we on the road, we all the time, we outta line with it I keep the switch up on the pistol for the crime business Don't give a fuck about no time difference, for real Uh, potato on the barrel, make 'em eat the hash with it Brought in the dame to Roc-A-Fella, but I dashed with it Pray to the Mafia, we tax different, for real