Whyte Mtn. - False God Lyrics

Good God!
Have mercy on these pussy ass niggas
Who falsely claim to be among holy figures
I'm goin' give up religion
If they're the last ones existing
You pay taxes
You kiss asses
You'll shit your pants in a minute!
(You're telling me my man doesn't pee or poop?)
HA!
I'll admit it, I'll admit it (yeah)
I'm educated and you isn't (yeah)
You quick to bark, but never listen (yeah)
Go Facebook your problems, send tweets to argue
Leak a Snapchat, delete an Instagram follow
But in person, you ain't man enough to call out
Give me a shoutout in a preconceived verse
You can't freestyle and your writing's worst (worst)
Unemployment higher than ever before
And you still goin' get this work (work)
You still goin' get this work (ah yeah)
You still goin' get this work (work)
I got that dope white boy flow, I'm bout to go berserk (I go berserk)
Restocking the artillery
Paperboy with this kinda delivery
Hope your money still stretching
When you be put on a stretcher
Is it a stretch for me to call in the emergency?

I'm not new to this (8 years and counting, finally made it, huh?)
I'm not new and I'm not through

You chain heavy with the holy cross
Oh my gosh
You done paid the cost
Hell's Kitchen, you 'bout to get burned in them pots
Finger lickin' good with the sauce
And I'm good, my nigga, I'm chill
Just you muthafuckers make me lose a nerve
Yessir!
I'm 'bout grab the fattest book and slap you with knowledge until you fucking learn
Meanwhile
Bitches sending pictures like there's no filter
Snitches getting stitches like we goin' kill ya
You real dumb
That's real talk
You realize that we don't feel ya
Money has interest, girls show interest
I mean, ya gotta keep things interesting
It's all a matter of interest, but nah I ain't a bit interested
Religion
As time goes by, I'm don't think that many y'all have it
But you seem to praise and worship all of these addicts
Who feed off attention
Worthy of all mention
Shows up to a party like it's some kindof divine intervention
You're fucking kidding me
Maybe I'm going too far
Yeah, I don't mean to spar
Taking a shot at the stars in this small planet of ours
But my scope is interstellar and you looking redder than Mars
The money, the power, the women
Anything you say, go ahead and boast
But the mass is over and just like the lyrics you preaching
Nigga, I'm ghost