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*Hey, this is Kain from Chicago and my weekend song is…*
Shine Likah Star/ Like it’s everything you are/ Like a/
Like a star/ like it’s everything you are/ Gotta/
Burn like a barn like it’s everything you own/ Like a/
Like a barn, like it’s everything you own that ain’t bad
I got double-sided tape/ take lint from fleece pants
Left bionic arm to disarm the policeman
Nice Evil regal sucka beagle/ you’re not hip
Poisonous lips flip/ sipped some paint drips
Time travellin/ I’m travellin/ 3rd of July of NINE-FIVE
Bitch shifted on my dick and now my dick’s alive
Kabul, Abu Dhabi, Dubai because a helicopter/
Natty on the funk beat got me hella proper/
Doctored Dr. Pepper colas with they own lids/
Thomas call me Tom Pickles with they own kids/
Wasted, thin-waisted pasty bitch is hitting roads/
Crown Hutch, Press me together, I’m about to explode/
I’m about to explode right now/ Press the button Crown Hutch
*My weekend song is…*
Shine Likah Star/ Like it’s everything you are/ Like a/
Like a star/ like it’s everything you are/ Gotta/
Burn like a barn like it’s everything you own/ Like a/
Like a barn, like it’s everything you own that ain’t bad
You step into the booth, like spooky ghosts for cursed rehearsal /
Face like a goddamn class action face commercial/
Quit rapping/ Go on a mountain/ Have it tell you what you’re best in/
Face like a goddamn…win a new face replacement game show contestant, wow/
I’m the bane of Tarzan, in his hut, in his wife/
Ninety-nine calories from gluttonous life/
Barely barelling downhill, gold trumpets and light/
Shoulder on my hand, it’ll be alright/
My fans fixate/ on asphyxiating while they’re waiting/ Mixtaping
Yeah, while I’m taping the mix/
And now I’m back in the midst of being mistaken for wit/
But I’m not giving a shit because I’m fucking Crown Hutch…/
I sleep standing up…in Peruvian oils, i’ll pile-drive a cop into oily, dirty, fucking fat Jerusalem soils
Shine Likah Star/ Like it’s everything you are/ Like a/
Like a star/ like it’s everything you are/ Gotta/
Burn like a barn like it’s everything you own/ Like a/
Like a barn, like it’s everything you own that ain’t bad
Everybody know she’s got nice-ass ass/
And I’m the rap assassin, bitch, in case you’re askin/
I’m shooting up drugs with guns and bitch I’m robbin Baskins/
Robbin Robin Robinson for Walter Jacobson’s faxes/
Platinum axes caress the masses/
This bitch relaxes while she’s doing her taxes/
I like her hair so much…it’s making me feel gay/
I like her dress so much, it’s making me feel gay/
Like her shoes so much, it’s making me feel gay/
I’m chillin out in the country on a big stack of hay/
Bitch, smoking-hot-bitch/ I’m blunt-smoking pots which/
Makin me feel high, though/
Like fourth of July, though/
Like up in the sky, though/
Everybody: get dough!/
Pizza men flip dough but I don’t give a shit, though/
Make you suck my dick, ho/ New york times six though/
Break my dick off inside her/ like I’m bad
I’m thinkin about…..
I’m thinkin about Michelle Pfeiffer/
Like I’m bad/
You step into the booth/ Like spooky ghosts for cursed rehearsal/
Face like a goddamn class action face commercial…
* This is Shawn from Chicago and my favorite weekend song is…*
Shine Likah Star/ Like it’s everything you are/ Like a/
Like a star/ like it’s everything you are/ Gotta/
Burn like a barn like it’s everything you own/ Like a/
Like a barn, like it’s everything you own that ain’t bad
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