Lyrics Futuristic – Fuck You Mean

Intro:
Hey, hey
Y’all don’t really want it
x3

Verse 1:
Yo, tank on, tats out, with the chucks, boy
Snapback, cargos sagging, don’t give a fuck, boy
Grown ass man, nigga, what boy? Fuck boy
Ask me how I feel about you rapping? You suck, boy
Dressing like you touch boys, uh oh, goddamn
Tryna get my pockets hella fat, like Roseanne
Batman, no Robin, bad boy like Rodman
And my name is Future, but that don’t mean I’m an odd man
Get it? Odd Future, okay
My girls are like the Zumiez brand, all they do is obey
White twins, nickname them cocaine and snowflake
Got four girls that roleplay and they all go both ways
Older chicks said I was a Little Rascal, I said otay
I’m in the game and y’all niggas get no play
I’m in the game and I kill shit, like OJ
I run the game and you don’t, no legs
Or broke legs, you gon’ need both legs
A pogo, a scooter, a jet, and a moped
To catch up to Future, you gon’ need a snowsled
A skateboard, a jet ski, a bike with ’bout four pegs
All of these go heads are not really into ya
Red dot on forehead, like you are from India

Hook:
Fuck you mean, nigga? Fuck you mean, boy?
x4
I don’t think they want it, they don’t really want it
x4

Verse 2:
Why every rapper tryna be like me?
Call them Mike Tyson with the style, cause they bite me
My flow is colder than an ice
Your wifey? I toot it and boot it like I was YG
You tryna fight me? Jealousy’s a bitch trait
I been saying y’all suck, that’s the name of my mixtape
I been frosting flakes great ever since the fifth grade
Flows leave them dismayed, I’m sharper than a switchblade
Skip lames, I do my own shit, I got a band
Now you tryna duplicate the sound beating pots and pans
Girls repping for the gang done forgot their man
Got a lot of fans, throw up the dub with a lot of hands
Not again, I heard some nigga say, I had to do it
Acting stupid, tryna rap like Future, you fucking doofus
I got that sauce, you can stick up with that swaggering
Before I spit that acid at you like a broken battery

Hook

Verse 3:
Fuck you mean, boy, it’s Futuristic, holler back
Now a days these rappers talk ’bout money, hoes, and popping tags
That’s cool, I’m down with that
Models with those bodies like an hourglass
Fresh like I walked out of the laundromat
Fly, I need a launching pad, you not fly, ostrich ass
Broke niggas wanna hop up on my fucking couch and crash
They say, count your blessings, I’m too busy counting cash
Ball hog, no nash, never see me bounce a pass
She bounce that ass for me and the squad, really though?
She was smart, she gave me all that brain, now she’s a silly ho
Gave her some Young Money, she liked my A Milli flow
Colder than a Dairy Queen bar, what’s the dillio?
Killing those other rappers that you probably like
I’m on another level, you should probably take a hike
They say, you hella nice, April Fool’s, psych
Hey, you sound just like that guy, no, we are not alike

Hook