Big Foot

(Been trill, been doin' it, been at it) Your flow is such a bore Drinkin' a bottle of Henny through a straw Bitch, you better stop that dialogue (28 shit) 'Fore I hit Carl and buy your catalogue Sigh How you fuck your mother man when she die? How you go on Gayle King and can't cry? Chile, bye Big foot, but you still a small fry Swearin' on your dead mother when you lie (ay, yo) This lil beggin' whore talkin' 'bout Megan's law For a free beat, you could hit Megan raw (ooh) If you a ghost writer, Pardi in Megan's jaw (ooh) Shots thrown, but I still ain't let Megan score (tell 'em) Bad bitch, she like six foot (ooh), I call her Big Foot (brr) The bitch fell off, I said, "Get up on your good foot" Uh, still ain't topped Red Ruby (no, no, mm-mm) Tryna steal the sauce, I said, "Get up out my cook book" (brr) But really, I'm a sweetie pie P-R-T-T-Y, but I'm P-E-T-T-Y (brr) Um, why did you lie about your lipo? Fuckin' you best friend man is crazy, you the type, though You was lyin' to the Queen, then you went lyin' to the King, Gayle That thirty-year-old tea, so stale Kylie kicked you out and made you stumble to the car Barbz, I need a good alcohol bar Roman, wait, that was the bar Like a body builder, I keep raisin' the bar Fuck you get shot with no scar? (Brr) This little piggy toxic, somebody adopt it Shit'll get dark like chocolate I'm 'bout to get up in your ass, bitch, clench (woo) Mm, yeah, sorta like French They got you all them Grammy's, but your flow's still a now What a Fiasco, Lupe Future made you pay She wanna party with DaBaby while rubbin' on Tory troupe I guess she needed Moneybaggs for them Trey Songz She G-Eazy, Carl made her crawl for Yo, why the fuck you poke the Monsta? Fuckin' with Nicki, this year, hoe, I'm comin' like a porn star She just mad that no nigga ever loved her No nigga gon' stand ten toes behind her Is it my fault I got good vagin-er? Why the fuck is you humpin' on a minor? 'Cause she was lyin' on your dead mama (ooh), on-on you dead mama (ah-ah-ah-ah) Lyin' on you dead mama (ooh-ooh), on-on you dead mama Lyin' on you dead mama (ooh-ooh), on-on you dead mama Lyin' on you, lyin', lyin', lyin', on-on you dead mama (brr, ooh) Now listen up, Big Foot You know I got a lotta tea I went easy on you Um (glass fragment foot ass, bitch) You know, whenever I meet a woman that would fuck her friend's man (And let your friend talk about your ex-friend baby on the internet) I know that (no, no) they have a very evil spirit Um (where my prayer warriors at?) I don't think you want the next installment of this song I know it's the most attention you've ever gotten One-flow hoe, but, uh, trust If you don't apologize to your mama in twenty-four hours Shit gon' get uglier than KenBarbie, okay? Don't play Um, and also, I'd like to say To my supporters, I love you, may God bless you, you're amazing Um, all the good-pussy gyal dem too, yes But, I'm very serious Hoe, the things that you've lied about Even pertaining to your mom (You don't want them out, okay?) Now, since you think it's funny to speak about people's families (We'll all join in) (We'll all play the reindeer games) Soon as your new nose heals And soon as your- Well, let's leave that for the second installment, rrr