Get the Fuck Off My Dick

Get the f*ck off now, get the f*ck off my dick

Hard to tell which one more perfect, man, my art or my bitch

Hard to tell which one more perfect, man, my car or my crib

Avant-garde with this shit, get your jaws off my dick

Get the f*ck off now, get the f*ck off my dick

Hard to tell which one more perfect, man, my car or my crib

Hard to tell which one more perfect, man, my art or my bitch

Avant-garde with this shit, get your jaws off my dick



Yeah, I ain't taking no more calls, might think 'bout calling it quits

Press is trying to block my blessings, no more talking to Vince

NPR and XXL, man, I can't tell which is which

Missed the mark, I think my label need a marketing switch

Hold up, switch the flow up, I won't roll for nothing

Rappers ho up, then they blow up, guess who do the fucking?

VMA and Grammy snubbing, not walking through no clubs

Homie you can keep your money, it don't do nothing for me

Heard they looking for me yeah, you're a dummy yeah

Have somebody find your body parts, run and run it, yeah

Ay bay-bay, ain't for play, sear the steaks, steal the Wraith

(And them Wraiths is ugly, by the way

We see you got money to spend, but, nonetheless)



Get the f*ck off now, get the f*ck off my dick

Hard to tell which one more perfect, man, my art or my bitch

Hard to tell which one more perfect, man, my car or my crib

Avant-garde with this shit, get your jaws off my dick

Get the f*ck off now, get the f*ck off my dick

Hard to tell which one more perfect, man, my car or my crib

Hard to tell which one more perfect, man, my art or my bitch

Avant-garde with this shit, get your jaws off my dick



I'm from Ramona, no school diploma

We caught him slipping, he in a coma

You got two choices, lose your life or your persona

I still hear voices from them nights I hit them corners

Walked through the MOMA, just did the feature, hit the scene

And blew the quota, I might do Toshiyuki Kita for the sofa

Might save my Nike check and spend my Coca-Cola

Don't count my packets, pocket rocket leave you tore up

Time to glow up, from the floor up how I came

You don't know my pain, bitch, don't act like you don't know my name

Don't record me man, bitch, you see me trying to board this plane

Don't you touch my frame, still the one who bust you in your brain

I don't f*ck with fame, you don't see me in no fucking chains

Ain't no fucking slave, Def Jam ain't gon' put me on no pay

This the sound I made, won't nobody knock me off my wave

I'm the god in this, f*ck up off my dick



Get the f*ck off now, get the f*ck off my dick

Hard to tell which one more perfect, man, my art or my bitch

Hard to tell which one more perfect, man, my car or my crib

Avant-garde with this shit, get your jaws off my dick

Get the f*ck off now, get the f*ck off my dick

Hard to tell which one more perfect, man, my car or my crib

Hard to tell which one more perfect, man, my art or my bitch

Avant-garde with this shit, get your jaws off my dick

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Get the Fuck Off My Dick
Yelawolf – Still Ridin’ Lyrics