Lyrics Backpack - Rex Winnfield

Yeah, I'm sellin' magazine-formatted pornography out my backpack
It's a Matte Black, brand new with a Jansport knapsack
After I sold all of the magazines, bought a hatchback

I drove that shit to Claire's and stole a fistful of lip gloss
I put it on, fucked your bitch's secondhand flip-flops
While listenin' to Rick Ross, he ride me till my dick's soft
Yeah, I'm only playin', I'm loyal inside my fuckin' core

Fuck the movies, I prefer findin' love in the grocery store
See you without makeup, no time to waste, let's make love
I wanna see the good, the bad, the raises, and the pay cuts
Yeah, you think I'd write a happy song not off a Lexapro?

Echo dot alarm ain't goin' off, said, fuck Alexa, yo
I'm rockin' Online Ceramics, beanies, and Rose in Good Faith
Only kill a rapper out of necessity, never hate
I'm finished rappin' bout college, it's time to turn the page

Cause I found new ways to make emotions out of pent-up rage, bitch
Look, okay, these silly bitches tryin' to talk shit up on my name

My game is spittin' shit you hear and never feel the same
My lane turned to roads as big as oceans, try to top that
I'm pickin' beats that's smoother than sippin' bourbon and top hats
I'm spittin' like it's combat, my microphone is cocked back

I hit record grippin' the trigger pull it, call this boom bap
Yeah, I'll put my ego to the side to show my purpose
I'll make a rapper purse their lips after hearin' my verses
And it's time for action, no relaxin', fuckin' nine to five, I'm done

I've been doin' this since 14, I've proved I'm number one
I got models rockin' CatMilk, got brands wantin' collabs
And I'ma keep this grind goin' until I fuckin' collapse
This is my victory lap, my depression is relapsed

But fuck it, whatever, cause creatively I'm better than ever
This is the start of an era, the end of small town blues
I'm in a place where I'm like, fuck it, I got nothin' to lose