100 Words And Running

[Verse 1] Coming out the bottom of the mother fucking totem pole Calling everyone who ain't believe like "I told them hoes" Now they on my scrotum though And I've been grinding so long its like I gotta blow Baby mama calling up my phone, what the fuck you want Cause I don't owe nobody shit stop askin' Haters get off of my dick, stop gaggin' They know I'm schooling them, they tell me stop classin' We already know that you the shit stop gassin' Eck, and my flow is fucking sick dog Make a bitch cough like a sick dog Probably cause I spit raw No fucking with this boy Other rappers more uncool than when the fridge off Damn I think my lid's off, more mental then Sig Freud Mind like a mother fucking-unsolvable jigsaw People ask my audience "what you listen him for?" Shit..cause I don't think Lil Wayne's come this hard My God, then what that mean Since I ain't son to nobody, then I must be king Cocky with it, cause I know that can't nobody stop me with it Wanna try? be ready to die, Kamikaze with it Fuck a prince, I know I'm the real shit ya dig Cause ain't no-mother-fucking-body done the shit I did I'm the man where I'm from, but they call me the kid Give me the crown cause if not then we taking that bitch Mother fucker [Verse 2] 100 words and running, 100 rappers that I ate still in my stomach And 100 other coming, hustling for one-hundred a-hundreds I don't give a fuck what you say, give me my money Not college educated, but I can count a shit load Connected like a constellation I can get you shipped more Boy I do numbers with these verses check the info I'm Machine Gun Kelly what the fuck's a pistol What the fuck's a white flag What the fuck's a price tag What the fuck is beef? Fuck it show me where's the mics at I will tear each one of them mother fuckers a nice ass No homo cause we don't get dicked, we ain't like that Nah bitch, should've hollered at me before Cause "fuck you pay me" is now my steelo And that goes for promoters, for the shows For the verses, for the hoes For the labels, what you owe Bitch, give me my dough I'm the big baller, shot caller of my age 19-year old Dwayne Wade And the Eastside on my back, no matter what they weigh Clevelands number 23 like I ain't know Lebron played So what's up to all my fans who held me down since day one Telling them Kells' the hardest that they come Gave the real what they want and I did that So come and blow a blunt with your boy give it here let me split that And I bet they won't forget that Cause rappers forgot how to be real Forgot how they used to be before the deal But I remember still That's why I'm not a member of fame Just raw talent who remembers the game And the name, Kells