IXEXI - Inferno, Elijah Yo, Isaac Puerile

Fuckin' good

Yeah

Aye, Hol' up

Okay

Everybody wanna be 'bout that 'till the beat stops

Then they all sweet like pie is

I was in the hood like engines

Tryna get good with the weight like Tyson

Who the fuck try and test me

Cuz no, Puerile good with the writing

Mario Bro good with the pipe and

Still one up on these cunts, no lying (Look)

I don’t gotta say too much but believe, when I talk it I walk it

Man, I got more balls than a ball pit

Wanna be the same but you’re all shit (Aye)

This ain’t the life of just anybody, brother, I don’t endorse it

Listen to them rap and I get exhausted

Can’t figure why they don’t forfeit?

Yeah, these days I gotta tame myself

From saying things that I may have felt

Strap on me like a safety belt

Actually, I gotta play the field

Way the game is built

Tried to shoot but I bit the bullet

Stickin' to the script of music

Lift the roof and hit the stu' and feelin' ruthless

Hid the truth and gotta dumb it down for the fakes

I’m puffin' shit that’s imported (Bitches clueless, ha)

Ripping and dipping off in my Jordan’s

Not talking if they’re informants

Take me to court I’ll tell 'em I’m foreign

Miseducated like Lauren

School tried teaching me I ignored 'em

Like, why would I listen to someone who dreams of a Ford

But they can’t afford it?

We rise from the B side where I reside Westide of the Eastside

No Bondi, there ain’t no sea side

But waves gon' crash if they all gon' D ride

Fucking up beats since knee high

Wore in my jeans, no Levi

Worlds for the taking, it’s all in the reach

Please, guy, know it’s all gonna be mine

Check the drip

The neck and wrist is more lit than a bitch in the exorcist

I get to the bag and I get to the whip

And invest in the west, we the next in this

And I ain’t gonna fall, nah

I ain’t gonna trip, nah, I ain’t even stressed a bit

I’m blessed to spit

That’s why whenever they hear the boy on it

They get the shits (Uh)

Fuck you talking who the best is?

Tryna make my mark like, check this

The beef shit don’t get fixed

Like a pothole in the West Syd

Oh, God I need a heat check like the three wet

Woo!

Oh, god they lack respect

Talking loud homie?

That’s some cheap shit

Puerile in the club, on stage

We gon' turn up quick with the 8's in the air

And your man hate me

'Cause your girl rate me

And you mad 'cause she now say «yeah!»

(Yeah)

Bro, life ain’t fair, I’m a cunt and I don’t play even

Tell 'em all that it’s Puerile season

Fuck up a beat then I dip, no feelings

And when life gives me lemons

I’ma make Limoncello

Got a bitch that tryna' fuck around

And when we fuck around she call me Bello

Matter fact tell her hello

She was doing everything I said so

And when I get to the bag I’m doing the dash

Tryna ball like Melo

These rap cunts rookies

One bar, tell the cunt come book me

Pax on the beat, motherfucker, what’s goodie?