BONUS II by Slacks Lyrics

Quote from the song “BONUS II” by Slacks

Slacks is Mr. Sunglasses
The fact is Saturn EP was my last shit
Now pass this out, as a platter for the masses
Fruit Snacks made by Slacks, for Slacks, bitch

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Credits, Cast & Crew of Song “BONUS II”

• Produced: Nubia
• Written: James D. Moynihan IV
• Release Date: December 22, 2017

Perfect Lyrics of the Song “BONUS II” Released in 2017

[Favorite Song Lyrics: song “BONUS II” with perfect lyrics for karaoke]

Slacks is Mr. Sunglasses
The fact is Saturn EP was my last shit
Now pass this out, as a platter for the masses
Fruit Snacks made by Slacks, for Slacks, bitch

Top dogs in Raleigh got nothing on me
Had to take some shots to start off this party
I love them, but they ain't start how I'm starting
Stars can develop, but before the bars was hard hardly
I learned rapping from Big Papa, Andre 3-thou, Kendrick Lamar
Eminem, Odd Future, and Black Star
So don't come at me with your purely obscure vinyl stash
I'll never say that it's trash, I just really wouldn't know every last
One of them, but I'm cool with new blasts to the past
Now let me rip it on the mic, this is my existence
Trynna get it to where it is this shit all of the time
I would spend all of my dime, smoke a quarter while I rhyme
Dropping pennies on my thoughts while they drop nickels on my kind
Yeah, you wanna see how I'm living but can't stand how I'm spitting
This abstract like Q-Tip, abstract's how I do it
Abstract is the movement, attract what is fluid
Attack when it's stupid, contrast and congruent
Switch-up, if the past is the future then you gotta shoot it
Get up with your ass, why you so sure that you shouldn't?
Could you tell I'm freestyling?- probably couldn't
Youthful like the spring, youthful that's the thing
Youthful like a fling, before the baby or the ring
Don't ignore this thing, there's no edits
I was writing what I think, then I said it
Now I'm spitting on the brink
Of my mind, on the edge, Barton Fink
With the typewriter, live-wire
Pulled off an all-nighter
And he got the long-lighter
With that get along fire
That we smoke behind the choir
Until it's nothing like my tires
Delivery driver, got the auxilary tired
But I had to make some racks for the beats
And these the ones it had to be
'Cause these the ones I tapped my feet
Made me work my ass off on the street
Made ya boy seem like a freak
Unclean, unkempt, but always fleek
Steady rocking with his speak
Know what I mean?
Unh, yeah, alright

I love to rip bars with the wickedest visciousness
Interest apart, I been working on my vividness
How to paint a picture, through scripture, no iffiness
To do it looking through light fixtures the trickiness
There's always a big set-up, like we getting played then wet-up
I don't like it, I don't write it plain when I aim the baretta
This is J Cole inspired, holy wired, roley tired type rap shit
The only fire brighter than the choir or the Ivy league hired type rap shit
The looking for the new, to start anew, and start a new wave of rap type rap shit
The crude and rude mood this dude has to bring it back type rap shit
The if I have to make it and pass it, then I have to make it a classic type rap shit
The after the fact it happens people looking forward to my insta post captions type rap shit
They'll be begging for the rations
But still gonna question what the snacks is
You lack this multi-track elastic action
I brag on my latest Slacks attack with a drastic passion
My bars sound like Biggie with the sick fashion
Blunt ashing with the hung-ass-dick
Poking through the robes, smoke going through my nose like a dragon
And I joined the band of flows, so you can go and fuck your wagon
Now just imagine, FlowslackS reunited, rapping with the slacks sagging
With the new cast and crew, and all the bitches tails wagging
They wagging, they wagging
You lagging, I'm back in
I'm rapping, what's happening?
Hip-hop is not dead