Fake Mumbling


Jack takes a shot at Mumble Rappers in this lyrical trash talk.


Fuckin’ in the hood
That pussy good the way it should be
More straps than a thug
Hold ‘em to they mug
Like where the fuck my bucks be?
I ain’t bugs, G
I’m Elmer Fud, see?
I’m shooting ducks this season
Showing up to caskets drunk on drugs
Fuck your feelings
Suck a dog
I’m too dick for the shit I’m saying
Shit seems tame half the time I’m spraying
Acid on your moms and sisters face
Just to let you know where my place be at
Where my brains at
My thoughts blacks but there ain’t no root to the madness
The sadness inside me I inhabit and toss gladly
Half the rappers out there couldn’t hand me a cold
I’m already frosty
Ya nigga sold
You niggas coughing
And I ain’t even rapping
This shit is still a blog, G
Feeling frogs? Leap
Put your ass to sleep
Like Bill Cosby
Get Trump to take a dump in your coffee
He gives no fucks just like me
Come and fight me if you think your shit is tight
Have a problem with the way I write?
Say that and go hide
Rappers these days have no pride
They just lie about sex and drugs
While broke day and night
No pussy or a dime
Sober while home crying
Trying their best to make a mark
By barking up the wrong tree
Pussies caught on a branch
Too scared to jump down or even scratch
Won’t swing, sing, or rap
They jump mumble and nap
Cause no trouble
They’re whack
They’re not rebels
Just clap and watch them jump ten feet
Get off my radar
You haters just fade to the background
Ultraviolet comes off louder
I’ll listen to that now