Happy Rappy - Das Racist, Heems

Get that guap, get that money

Meathead, street cred

Weed edge, Greedhead

Young child’s Ponzi

Waka Flocka Fonzie

Sippin' Dom P, don glassage on Africa

Buddhist suit, they write down my Agatha Christie mysteries

Officer Rick Ross, gold chain Mr. T’s

Open every cell without a cuss (?) selling Acuras, it’s a commercial

Room full of Draculas, big commercial

Which little idiot wanna throw a piggy bank of more, much more?

Paid for Rushmore, Larry Johnson, Fred the Godson

Terry ___, ___, Dodge Durango

Rango, Johnny Depp and Eric Bay reppin' it

Alameda, don’t step in it

Used to stay there, now I stay where young Icarus went to daycare

Hey, there!

All you little kids better play fair!

Yo, yo, this shit is too much, kid!

One day I’ll roll up and be like «What up, kid?

I’m fitter, happier, more productive!»

Until then I lay home and bump this «Loveless»

Yeah, that’s My Bloody Valentine

Forty — cracker, don’t call it My Bloody Valentine

Call it my bloody country club

Hindu thuggee come from blood

Won’t stop yellin' 'til I’m comfortable

Tumblr full, wonderful

Keep it 100, I’mma die, like, 10 times

Be the first to run if I hear some lead fly

Same by the Bed-Stuy (?)

Stack chips with the Vegas

I’ll kill 'em with the —

I’ll kill 'em with the —

Hello, yes, it’s happy rappy!

This is what you’re hearing right now, actually