JVCK (@YOUNGJACKYOUNG) - Goose Manifesto

[Chorus]
I’m papa goose to these bitches (King)
They’re getting too big for their britches (Yikes)
They can’t handle this heat (No)
So get the fuck up out the kitchen (Bye)
And as god as my witness (What?)
There will never be a witness (None)
I can sniff out any snitches
I call ‘em Richard, then I nix ‘em (Gone)
I’m a Rottweiler to these hoes (Yessir)
That means these pricks getting bitten (Bitе)
The money bag’s in the hеarse (Cha-ching)
Death don’t stop me from the millions (Facts)
I’m mama goose to these bitches (Queen)
They’re getting too big for their britches (Yikes)
Get the fuck up out the kitchen
Haters are what they eat, they’re chickens
[Verse 1]
Back again, they better back off
I’m always on, no JVCK off
I’m top five, they’re six below
And that’s decayed and not froze, uh
If he’s a pain, I’m the killer
You could call me Percocet
Don’t pay me dust as interest
You’ll be an unforgiven debt
And fuck, I make it look easy
I’m chucking these rappers, I call ‘em E. Cheesey
I see them knees deep in their feces every time that they try to seize me
I’m out of reach, they’re out of touch
They’re not even eating, they waiting to bus
I’m not even competing
Guess I’ll play with myself
Yo, it’s all love when they butthurt
Cuz they all stand when I walk in
I’m available only when I want
Check my Outlook, before you walk in
They could be a dalmatian, but they’d never get my spot
I run the joint, I got all the tea
You could call me Mrs. Potts

[Chorus]
I’m papa goose to these bitches (King)
They’re getting too big for their britches (Yikes)
They can’t handle this heat (No)
So get the fuck up out the kitchen (Bye)
And as god as my witness (What?)
There will never be a witness (None)
I can sniff out any snitches
I call ‘em Richard, then I nix ‘em (Gone)
I’m a Rottweiler to these hoes (Yessir)
That means these pricks getting bitten (Bite)
The money bag’s in the hearse (Cha-ching)
Death don’t stop me from the millions (Facts)
I’m mama goose to these bitches (Queen)
They’re getting too big for their britches (Yikes)
Get the fuck up out the kitchen
Haters are what they eat, they’re chickens
[Verse 2]
Praise Mary, Joseph, and Jesus
I bring the bread and the cheeses
Versace diamonds in summer, I stay frozen every season
That’s my philosophy speaking
And I don’t need to reason why haters should better the means of their production
Cuz it ain’t worth seizing
Like lottery numbers, his chances are low
I stay making the cheddar, quesadilla flow
I stay making the bops, spelling “A.C.A.B.” to cops
They know I’m the butcher, I got all the chops
Only pretty pennies for a piece of me
Or thirty silver coins for my loyalty
That’s Judas money, it’ll make me dance
Or shake a little ass on a handstand
I’m Barbie as fuck
I never claimed them as kin
I see pricks shitting themselves
Someone get them Depends
When I drop this, call me Johnny, cuz I be planting them seeds
These haters riding my dick, they’re trespassing property (Bang)

[Chorus]
I’m papa goose to these bitches (King)
They’re getting too big for their britches (Yikes)
They can’t handle this heat (No)
So get the fuck up out the kitchen (Bye)
And as god as my witness (What?)
There will never be a witness (None)
I can sniff out any snitches
I call ‘em Richard, then I nix ‘em (Gone)
I’m a Rottweiler to these hoes (Yessir)
That means these pricks getting bitten (Bite)
The money bag’s in the hearse (Cha-ching)
Death don’t stop me from the millions (Facts)
I’m mama goose to these bitches (Queen)
They’re getting too big for their britches (Yikes)
Get the fuck up out the kitchen
Haters are what they eat, they’re chickens