Verse 1: Right hand on the mic, my teeth crooked I saw the spark up in your heart and then I took it All the treasure under the see, I overlook it. Then I take your fucking rhyme book apart so I can cook it Look kid, don't you ever act stupid I'll make you walk the sky like Team Rocket or Luke did White trash, married the game and then I bruised it Had a grammar book, but I losed it I mean loosed it, lost it, anyway, I never used it I don't like the proper things, Biggie on my crucifix Like a kiddy in some skinny jeans, I got stupid fits P.O. double L. A. C. K. You know who it is When he in a room, then the room is his When he slipped dick to a chick, all her tumors quit He don't give a shit, what the rumour is Him, Em, Hova, you've got two more picks Is he serious? Just assume he is Chorus: Fuck your list, fuck your top 10 Fuck your YouTube arguments, "is it Kendrick or Em?" Fuck your list, fuck your top 5 Fuck your internet fights, "is it Wu-Tang or Tribe?" Fuck your list, fuck your top 3 Fuck your commentary spree, "is it Nas or Jay Z?" Fuck your list, fuck your top one I'm masturbating, I'm getting the job done Verse 2: Left hand on the mic, my eyes swollen I feel kind of boring, I've had my style stolen "Ring ring" goes the phone and you're asking who's calling It's the Polish guy who loses his mind every morning I'm the ace above four kings Top 5. Wanted to fly, but they got sore wings I'm Sinatra, showing class and watching whores swing Your life is kind of like this beat, could use some more strings Style obese, man, it couldn't have no more chins I'm a unicorn, so stop betting on which horse wins Doing the crudest porn, just to stack up even more sins Ludicrous form, going since Filip was born 'till his corpse stinks Heart beating so swift it broke ribs Even though I'm dead, know the flow lives I should be your favorite fucking thing, like the porn flick With the cutie pie with rouge thighs, blue eyes and super-cool tits Or the goldfish you loved just like your own kid Who had to be thrown in the toilet bowl over some grown shit Or the puppy you loved, who was your one friend They took him to a farm and after that you never saw him I'll break your heart like that event Or the night you had to ask your Momma where Daddy went I'm coming hard like your daddy's friend. You know? The one who came over once or twice to cum right on your Daddy's bed? Fuck your list Chorus: Fuck your list, fuck your top 10 Fuck your YouTube arguments, "is it Kendrick or Em?" Fuck your list, fuck your top 5 Fuck your internet fights, "is it Wu-Tang or Tribe?" Fuck your list, fuck your top 3 Fuck your commentary spree, "is it Nas or Jay Z?" Fuck your list, fuck your top one I'm masturbating, I'm getting the job done

Verse 1: Filip in this bitch like a hound barking super fast Smoke rising up to the lungs from a hookah glass Left hand, Red Stripe, like the 'Murican flag Jacking the White out of your sight, making you super sad Stranger than a nun who decided to wear skirts more Smell the microphone like the dome of my first born "Achy Breaky" Billy Ray, he told me I should twerk more Emcees running out of bars you better call the jerk store Or AT&T. Tell me your mates hate me It's making me fairly angry, like - really? - why would you say it to me I'm from Poland but the internet made me Teeth fucked, though I haven't smoked cigarettes lately This that new stuff, it sucks, let me bust a few Lady Luck, I'm just being blunt, got a crush on you Zero point seven per throat, just like the Russians do Polish people too, I'm like Tevez, very emotional Name's Filip. Last name unpronounceable Mentally ill, I'm thinking 'bout what would House do I do my own thing I bang some loud tunes Police banging at my door like I wasn't allowed to Chorus: I was just listening to "Marvin's Room" I was just listening to Arctic Monkeys I was just listening to DANGERDOOM But if you want, you can come in and fucking cuff me X2 Verse 2: Words shooting out like midgets from cannons Shipping death, I'm on fire like I'm swimming for Stannis I hit the water to cool off, take your chick to Atlantis I ride some sea whores for a while, then I'm tickling salmons That was a pussy joke, I'm kind of embarrassed Rappers claiming they are Michael, fuck it, call me Maharis Ain't his first language, dude is rapping with mad talent Going hard at it, since he moved out of his dad's phallus, ugh Let me bring it down a bit Here I sit, couple buckets, 80 pounds of spit I should send it to the healers, even, better the dealers And I would measure it in liters but its kind of thick, you know. I'm a Valleyman, sucking on mangos Hemingway is that fucker always causing a scandal Anyway, then I motherfucking buck'em like Django Tell it straight, count two doors, then hop in the Lambo I'm a goddamn dirty Pollack Man I can't believe I'm drinking freaking coca cola Went to Paris, that's the only reason Lisa is Mona I drank red, then I passed out on the street corner Woke up in London just to get my diploma Actual Master of Science on THIS microphone I'm back home play just to bump some fucking Kendrick, hol'up Somebody's banging at my door, the neighbor's must've called up

I'm genocidal on this 22, I'm Rwanda I'm a dude both Hutus and Tutsis are not fond of Lazy for days, work nights, Mary Jane Fonda You're in a line-up doing lines, while I do the Conga Want beef, burger flipper, get devoured like food I'm a retarded evil genius, using powers for good A sip of brew when I wake up, then a Xanax at noon I'm on some Drizzy Drake shit, singing out of the blue Means I sing in the rain So goddamn it, Sam, play it, Frank, sing it again When I was 17 I used to pour my seed down the drain Creating sewage monsters, sorry Dufresne You'll never make it through the damn canal See I'm the fucking Heisenberg, and you brats a Hal Your style is foul and a tad banal I am a walking mystery, call me a femme fatale The good and evil in me cancel out A rough gentleman, I come into a damsel's mouth I'm dangerous like sitting down in Chris Hansen's house The new thing on the radio, I'm throwing Lazlow out I'm checking in, sipping gin, plenty brew and plenty doubt I gotta finish cause it's 22, I'm checking out Gotta go back, man, fuck a convention I vomit with all the stuff that you suckers mention Yeah, yeah, typical message: "no enough attention" Every rapper thinks he's Biggie, Slim, L, Hova and then some Throw me in jail, leave in a cell for nights I do not like your God's work. I'll go to hell with pride Don't understand me, not the motherfucking Mensa type? Your gun's heavy? Well my pencil's light. End of fight.

Goddamn it, now. (Young Hems what the dealy?) Goddamn it, now. (Young Hems what the dealy?) Goddamn it, now. (Young Hems what the dealy?) Goddamn it, now. My name isn't Taco, you know, my name is Filip Verse 1: Sitting on a porch chair, today I just don't care Grab my friend's phone, "hey, do you have any porn there"? Overheard by female passerbys, there goes that long stare Fuck ya'll bitches and glowing hair Fuck your shoes and your gear, pierced boobs and your ears Fuck your blues and your chop'n'screws and your rocking rolls My genre is indie-folk-low-fi-post-weird I'm beloved and ignored, most loved and most feared I'm a white European boy, best believe it boy So much "weird" in my lyrics that I'll never be employed Latest ploy, rape Freud with a phallic-shaped toy Ask him for analysis, while my phallus is showing Never been rich or piss-poor. Is it wrong? Always low self-esteem, like "what'd I get that kiss for?" And then my ego exploded. Explode Suddenly feeling like God when he's blowing his load On the face of his favorite pope, screaming: "baby choke" Then he's sucking on a blunt laced with his favorite dope Screaming, quote: "Fuck Africa. I'm gonna leave'em broke Whole world is a pile of fucking dirt, semen soaked" (Goddamnit, now) Oh, yes indeed. Funny how he never say these things in press release I'm hungry. Not rap-wise, hungry for Lebanese And instead saying grace, I will be resting in peace, goddamn it now Chorus: Goddamn it, now I just wanna lie in a motherfucking hammock now Gimme me a trampoline, give me a tambourin Red wine, blueberries and a gram of green Goddamn it now. Goddamn it now I just wanna lie in a motherfucking hammock now Gimme me a trampoline and a tambourin Red wine blueberries and a gram of green Goddamn it, now Verse 2: Young Hems, what the dealy? My name isn't Taco, you know, my name is Filip And I'm from a town that's been burned to the ground That's why I'm never down, 'less you stab my achilles I think I'm Big Meech and Bronsonelli Fuck the crowd in the mouth, get your tonsils ready I'm rocking Wilma's bed and locking jaws with Betty I'm 'bout to spit the vomit on y'all. Mom's spaghetti Invited to Biggie's house and his parties are heavy I tried to carpool but I couldn't get my balls in the Chevy I got there late but I still shook some hands and got me a bevy And Biggie's asking me why I'm no longer rapping as FV Because of Hopsin, I told him Now I rapping with a name from FIFA manager mode Oh, and I'm a Yiddo. Hungry like a hippo Keep your lips closed, kid or I'll damage your folks Party on, yeah, the bitches were big fun But I'm in the kitchen eating freaking chicken with Big Pun He wants the last piece, he's licking his damn teeth I'm saying like "aight, peace", but I grab it and make a run "Son, I beg your pardon!" When I'm hungry I got Bronson fronting steak with garlic Then we're having fondue or whatever you call it I woke up in my apartment, a half-dead alcoholic Bridge: Goddamn it, now. (Young Hems what the dealy?) X2 Chorus: Goddamn it, now I just wanna lie in a motherfucking hammock now Gimme me a trampoline, give me a tambourin Red wine, blueberries and a gram of green Goddamn it, now. Goddamn, it now I just wanna lie in a motherfucking hammock now Gimme me a trampoline and a tambourin Red wine blueberries and a gram of green Outro: Goddamn it, now. (Young Hems what the dealy?) X3 And I'm from a town that's been burned to the ground That's why I'm never down, 'less you stab my achilles

Verse 1: I'm the whitest black man, I'm the blackest white man I'm inhaling grey smoke, it's chocking my lifespan Red wine in my left, cigar in my right hand Grab my chest. My heart's a jungle with ripe land Watch him fight back. Leave them flabbergasted Leaving green phlegm in your favorite rapper's casket You know it's fantastic. Spit on the crowd. (That's sick.) The raised hands make me mad, you got a question then ask it Greedy narcissists; see them leaning now Push them over the edge of the bank so I can see them drown Spray my bitter seed right out the window, see my semen frown Neighbours up my ass: "pal, you think you could keep it down?" I don't know how. I'm just being weird, not being loud And there's no way I can think of that I could tone the shit down But fuck that, I'll do my best, not a peep or a sound I make a serious face, tell the grim reaper "not now". Fuck Chorus: "All my life I've been considered as the worst Lying to my mother, even stealing out her purse" All my life i've been considered as a golden child Mind is broken now, I try to tone it down, I don't know how "All my life I've been considered as the worst Lying to my mother, even stealing out her purse" One of those occasions when a gift is a curse "All my life I've been considered as the worst." Verse 2: Nah, that ain't true. I'm a good boy I want a tattoo cause Rihanna's fucking them rude boys I'm going crazy on these fucking beats, like a Shrute boy I'm inside her in a trojan, being like "what it do, troy" She grabbed my heart and called it a cute toy Karma hit me like DJ Khaled fathering a mute boy Saying that shit was a true joy Though I'm not sure if what I'm fucking saying's a true story Anyway. When you're making my tombstone Just write "here lies a boy, hella young but too grown And every drop of wine he vomited was a new poem But he flushed the fucking toilet every fucking time, cause it looked wrong" I'm a heartbreaker. It's very true, I can hook you up with hard data I'm part real, part faker. Me&mic, pepper/salt-shaker Escape first, read the charge later. They said I'm: "Kinda faggy with the artistry". Told them I agree But they didn't like the honesty. I said I'm fucking real I've seen gods die and goddesses bleed I've seen the devil dancing tango on the tallest of trees Exactly. It's beautiful but it's not pretty I'm gonna be a dumb fuck with a college degree So look at me, doing ballet with led in my bones And then I'm bumping oldies off my cellular phone, whoa

Verse 1: I'm a fucking walking normal man Drinking orange Fanta straight out of a soda can I'm a big time Yoga fan. Summer vacation Making plans to go to France, I might go to Japan To try to find and wine and dine Scarlett Johansson Try to be wise, I quote Quran Fuck Jay Leno, gotta double fucking name, it's Conan Stan My style is boring, cause my goals are bland Fuck rock, I'm a hip hop, and boulder fan I stood still when you posers ran Grip the microphone with both his hands Just like a shotgun in the hands of an older man When he becomes irrelevant like a postage stamp Their style is cheesy, while I'm mostly ham I put you fucks in a truck, you can call me Stan You like the bible, I'm a Moses fan! I'm burning some trees, hearing voices chant Fingerbang her with Royce's hand Cause I'm a man, all you boys be damned, fuck your ploys and plans Clark Kents change clothes and run While I relax, put my Kryptonite in Lois' bum, fun Chorus: What a pity, I'm walking through the city Fuck me, no one's even half pretty I'm acting silly, ugh, my name's Filip, ugh I won't stop until I make a couple millis, ugh X2 Verse 2: I'm from Warsaw where nobody foresaw We'd be fucked in a war when power divorced law I shower in blood and call it a gore SPA Mom is asking if I still do the rap thing, of course, Ma No called one thus far, guess they think I'm subpar Not at the studio, but another pub crawl Don't blame me, it's your fucking Lord's fault "No it's not". I guess I found your sore spot Write rhymes, eyes bleeding with ink, I'm Rorschach I'm not into fucking preachy rap-talk, so fuck Pac Call up mister Walt White, just wait for my door knock Crack a beer open, not smoking neither opium or rock I'm not Mr. Horrorcore. I'm Mr. Voldemort in Baltimore I'm giving you the war you've been hoping for Fighting with Omar behind Walmart, of course it's raw And if you're getting dizzy cause all the blood? You should focus more Not the kind of vocal that folks ignore Room shakes when I open the vocal chord I'm screaming fuck the Vatican 'till the pope is sore Gives me my cash back, greener than the fucking Hulk and Bulbasaur Point me to the smorgasbord, I'm get eat like an animal Like I don't know what these forks is for Each line is a Horcrux, boy And each time, I gotta remind you I give no fucks, boy Chorus: What a pity, I'm walking through the city Fuck me, no one's even half pretty I'maActing silly, ugh, my name's Filip, ugh I won't stop until I make a couple millis, ugh X2

Verse 1: Young Hems is the name, you see I flow vicious and chaotic like your veins on speed I'm like your brain on E, acid, cocaine and weed; Classy, mundane, indeed. I got a couple personalities so stay with me If you're not liking what you're hearing I can change the scheme And I can change the beat, like: My girl pretty, my grades average Saying: fuck the city, cause I am a savage Cutting bruises in my brain so I get the smartness But I went too far, man, just get the bandage I need booze. A few sips help the sadness Switch quicker than the motherfucking trends in Paris I'm both the Agent Harrises and the Tony Sopranoses Cue a Rap Genius nerd with some boring analysis I'm the Gangeses and red wines flowing in palaces I'm the millionth rapper saying how fucking evil and bad he is Chorus: That's boring Claiming you're a fucking demon? (That's boring.) Saying you spray chicks with semen? (That's boring.) Crying we should respect the females? (So boring.) Bragging 'bout your car and your nine? Complaining about rapping 'bout dimes? Rap purists go back to '95, go see Pac touring and go suck on his crack pipe Verse 2: I see. You fuckers are feisty Cause I'm on my Ricky Ross, you're mad cause I'm icy I wanna calm the fuck down, and light up a nice tree But my own mind is going against me, like why me? I guess I'm the rap game's Balotelli All these big black Tobiases? I call'em Nelly Got Halle B sucking my D, don't swallow, Berry- My seed's precious. If you do it I am carving your belly All I do is fucking rap, and I'm not charging a penny You say you got bars, true, but it's not many I fuck your clique up, stab Carl, rob Lenny Then sip a Duff, watch some fucking Scrubs on the telly I spit that red hot fat fire Bronsonelli Slick white boy look, Tommy Carcetti But I got the Omar brain, plus I got the Pollack flame Priest Robak shame, really sonny you are not ready Shots heavy. It's Friday, I'm on my Sobotka Old Polish fuck, chugging beers, eating a babka Then I'm cruising 'round the city with a bottle of vodka And a pretty young doll, but I'm calling her Lalka Like I'm motherfucking Prus, but my mózg is Kafka And my music is red fuzzy, too, I'm Rothko Cigarettes - I'm off those, I'm swimming in booze I ain't got shit to lose, so I'm boasting I got flows Chorus: Comparing your flows to rivers? (That's boring.) Love songs, like "her hips quiver"? (That's boring) Still rhyming the words "nigga" and "trigger"? (That's boring) Bragging 'bout your bling and look? Shallow melodies on every hook? Rap purists go back to '96, go compete with Lil' Kim over rights to Frank's dick Outro: Pac, Big L, Biggie Proof, Big Pun, Eazy Pimp C, ODB X2 That's boring

Verse 1: Mind hairy, money tall as fuck. Call me Chewbacca I don't want to listen any Chuck, give me some Waka "JFK" kind of flopped, I blame it on Jimmy Hoffa It’s a race, I'm a big fat rat like Mickey's poppa Fuck the race, I’ve been in the back. Sharpen the teeth. I'm skinning you cats Running the game, going up in the chain and I will harassing your bitches in fact H.E.M.I.N.G.W. A.Y, is that fucking dude bugging you, huh? Mr. Hemingway coming through, ugh. Earning my bucks, who the fuck are you Rolling me in Bohan, going bowling with Roman Bellic it's getting hectic but, check it, I come from Poland I'm blowing up in London, there's only one thing that I'm hoping I wanna get a fucking feature from Sweden, shout-outs to Young Lean Shout-outs to Pauline, uhm, I was just wondering If you wanna get married, "goddamn it, Filip, you're drunk again" Wake up next day, head broke again. Trying to roll a cigarette, man, fuck the wind No cash, cause I spent most of it. Was it even worth it, man, it must've been Chorus: I'm Chewbacca. Crossbow, top shotta I'm Chewbacca on these bombaclots I'm Chewbaca. Crossbow at the copper What am I doing? I just drank a lot I'm screaming: Goddamn. You motherfucker, you X3 Verse 2: I'm Chewie, see, put the Louie in Louis V And I'm saying shout-outs to C.K, he's saying like "who is he"? When I was seventeen on a rooftop in BK, I truly dreamed Of becoming a freaking MC, I'm rapping now, holy shit These rappers annoying Me and the mic, like Chandler and Joey Look at my balls, they're dangling, boy I'm marrying Perry and strangling Zoey You fuckers are cute Feeling like Biggie so gimme the loot Fuck all your parties and popping the mollies My mommy just brought up some broccoli soup All you blind fucks is Mrs Patmore Peep this, how 'bout you tweet less and rap more Jeez. If I was rich like Croesus and Macklemore I think that I would buy me a dream at Yeezy's rap store Maybe like a bottle of wine Or two, three, four, you know I think a dozen is fine A pack of cigarettes, you know I haven't smoked for some time I got a message from a fan, fuck it, I'm not replying You know why? 'I'm a diva. Fuck rap, playing FIFA I do a show fuck off to Tenerifa All you fuckers eat your hearts out like Khaleesi's beef I plant the seed in the game like I harvest Amber Khalifa Chorus: I'm Chewbacca. Crossbow, top shotta I'm Chewbacca on these bombaclots I'm Chewbaca. Crossbow at the copper What am I doing? I just drank a lot I'm screaming: "Goddamn. You motherfucker, you!" X3 Verse 3: Drink something and I'm a Wookie Only though my only mixtape flopped, I'm not a rookie I can almost hear hateful your thoughts like I was Sookie Do a Vik, bet the dead guy will win, go call your bookie Earl flow, and the lips kinda fat, I'm not as ugly Face always IDGAF, like I was Droopy Stole the thunder, got banned, got back I got a new key 'Finna start a fucking cool ass cult, like Captain Murphy Taco Hems, go and run tell your friends, I'm out-this-worldly Cancerous, like the Lump is my Kin, shout out to Lurleen Are you late for the Sweatshirt wagon? Well, I'm kind of Early But I bet it's gonna be full soon, you better hurry Young Hems, known for lung flex Rhymes bursting out compulsive like writing a dumb text I will break your self-esteem after breaking your chums' necks Show up at your show drunk and befriending your mum's ex, Taco