this dick

Lyrics

​(Intro)
Yeah. Uh-huh.
Oh, we lifting the filter now? You want it raw?
Say less, girl.
Stop standing there looking completely damn paralyzed.
I brought the heat, and you’re just giving it a blank-ass stare.
Quit fucking around. Don't just stare at it.
Pick it up.
​(Verse 1)
You running your mouth like a real boss bitch in the game
But you looking at this shit like you suddenly tame
Quit acting so damn dramatic, quit acting so shy
Grab it with two hands, look me straight in the eye
Pick it up and eat it, yeah, bite it right now
I’m the motherfucking king, and you need to learn how
You gotta swallow it whole, don't you dare let it drop
Choke on this greatness till the beat has to stop
Enjoy the fucking flavor to savor, it’s seasoned
I’m dropping these bars without rhyme or a reason
Feel the texture, it’s rough, it’s a beautiful crime
I’m a lyrical mobster, wasting your time
Lick it and bite it, don't let the juice waste
Got the street-credit culinary elegant taste
Watch it squirt in your mouth, an explosion of flavor
The kind of street violence that food critics savor
Going so damn deep that it fills up your throat
Like a heavyweight anchor attached to a boat
Yeah, your throat feels the tickle, it’s making you cry
Got tears streaming down, but you cannot deny
You cannot deny it, you need to just try it
It’s a hood-certified, motherfucking riot.
​(Chorus)
(What is it, girl? What the fuck we talking 'bout?)
Yeah, you know what it is.
It’s this dick…
-tionary! A vocabulary lesson from the streets!
Yeah, we expanding minds out here, you thought it was something else?
Get your goddamn mind out the gutter, girl!
We talkin' 'bout that heavy-hitting text!
...Nah, I’m just playin'. It’s exactly what you thought it was.
Let’s get back to the ignorance.
​(Verse 2)
Mobbing down the block with a glock in my hand
And a foot-long sub that I bought from the stand
I’m a dangerous man, a romantic assassin
Spitting bars so absurd that I’m bypassin' fashion
You standing there frozen like you seen a fucking ghost
I’m the ghost of Christmas Past with a piece of French toast
Eat it up, chew it down, let the ambiance settle
I’m as hard as a brick, I’m as tough as a kettle
You crying right now? Is it spicy or sweet?
That’s the emotional damage of gangsta street meat
The texture is crazy, it’s wild and erratic
Got you wheezing and coughing, a sudden asthmatic
But you love it, you need it, you cannot resist
Put this shit on the top of your playlist list
I’m a hardened criminal, a master of farce
Writing five thousand characters straight out my ass.
Yeah, keeping it filthy, no radio edit
Though the prompt was so wild that I barely can credit
The fact that I’m standing here rapping 'bout splattering
Juices and textures and throats that I’m battering.
​(Chorus)
Don’t just stare at it, pick it up and bite it!
If you’re scared of the flavor, then go ahead and fight it!
Watch it squirt, feel the tickle, make a tough girl cry
It’s the street-level romance that you cannot deny!
Yeah, it’s this dick!
(The definition of a hardcore rapper, obviously.)
​(Verse 3)
Let’s talk about the metrics, the sheer composition
I’m fulfilling this prompt like a covert mission
You wanted five thousand characters? Man, that’s a lot
Of metaphors for a sausage that’s sizzling and hot
Or whatever the fuck is currently filling your vision
I’m slicing this beat with surgical precision
I’m a menace to society, a danger to health
I’m hoarding all the sarcasm and keeping the wealth
Are you choking yet, bitch? Do you need some water?
I’m killing this track, it’s a lyrical slaughter
Feel the texture, it’s velvety, leathery, dense
None of these goddamn bars are making much sense
But the rhythm is immaculate, the bassline is heavy
I’m driving this track like a stolen Chevy
Lick it and bite it, enjoy the whole process
I’m the king of the underground, making progress
Your eyes are still watering, girl, wipe your face
You’re embarrassing the crew, you’re a total disgrace
Can’t handle the squirt? Can’t handle the splash?
Should’ve stuck to the baby food, oatmeal and mash.
​(Bridge)
Hold up, hold up. Let’s slow it down for the ladies.
You thought this was a love song?
You thought this was smooth R&B?
Nah, this is gangsta rap. We talk aggressively about consumption.
We talk brutally about satisfaction.
Get a fucking napkin, girl.
​(Verse 4)
Back on the block, I’m the neighborhood chef
Spitting raw heat till the audience is deaf
You still staring at it? Man, your hands must be shaking
Look at the monumental mess that we’re making
Bite it again, let the flavor consume you
I’m the rap superstar that’s about to entomb you
Deep in your throat, feel the rumble and vibration
This is the anthem for the whole entire nation
Sarcastic as hell, I’m a cynical bastard
An art form of comedy that I have mastered
You wanted it hilarious? I’m laughing out loud
Standing on the stage in front of a crowd
Dropping explicit double entendres with pride
While the security guards are laughing outside.