D-Pryde States the “Asian Kid Spits Hot Guacamole”

Ugh! That’s how you go in on a track. I have nothing else to add except it’s been awesome witnessing the kid, D-Pryde, grow up in both the literal and lyrical sense. It’s nice to see he hasn’t let the linguistic exercises fall by the wayside during this rise to Youtube stardom.

Fresh up out my moms vag, New ring on, Lebron swag//
teachers told me I was dumb, I’d have an odd future no golf wang//
They all up on my case, I swear the case was closed for-a-long-time//
killin em, stealing hearts, huge dude, committing small crimes//
lyrics crazy, appearence maybe, protection on-i got a fear for babies//
grabbed the freaking game and danced dirty, Im so weirdly swayze//
50 bucks is my networth, 100 songs, I killed that//
still-tryna-get-my-mill-stacked, got a duck face, but no real quack//


try to find a better chinky weirdo in the burbs//
that can flow-a-little-better-than-the-kid-that-you-be-hearin//
but im silly with the flow, really im a pro//

got a macbook, full of naked chicks//
black, white, brown, and asian chicks//
cele-britys, your favorite chicks,
even-the-girls-up-in-your-school you study majors with//
and no my dude, i-aint stanky rich//
i dont needa care bout your visa fare//
im a space-bound guy, i dont need your air//
i got the swag of 2Chainz with some bieber hair//
give em one slap, one slap//
my girl thicker than a mexicano mustasche//
sharper than a needle or a thumbtack//
and got these ol’ heads wondering like “whats that”//

I’m skrillex, with chinky eyes, Yo girl call me mister pride//
5’6, a little guy, they tried to kill me, I’m still alive//
I’m so cold boy just watch me, I’m dope so, yeah I’m cocky//
Tryna tell me I ain’t sick-is like saying yolo to a zombie//

I just walked in looking like I just got fired from my job//
scuffed up reeboks with a tank-top got your wifey on my rod//
they say Prizzy you ain’t broke, you be lyin’ cause you not//
man I got 20-cents in my checking boooy, get right up off my knob//

Made a job off what I day-dreamed bout in highschool, it-came-to-life//
Rappers sending shots? (shots), sorry bro you’re not aiming-right//

shaq ballin i’m bad at free throws, throwing money like dan marino//
showin up to these huge meetings all half asleep, with a bag of cheetos//
they tell me i ain’t hip-hop, hell yeah I ain’t hip-hop//
that’s why I got like 90K on my mixtape and yo ish flopped-
sick and please set the scale, rippin frees, never fail//
if you ain’t here smi-lin, lose your virginity to a whale//
Man shout outs to all my fans, you dun held me down//
never thought i’d get like-this-much-love-from somewhere outta town//

I be
still on the grind-even-though-i-went-pop
got-my-mid-le-finger-gone-all up in the air//

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