Favorite Song

[Verse 1: Chance The Rapper]
Chance, acid rapper, soccer hacky sacker,
Cocky khaki jacket jacker,
Slaphappy faggot slapper,
Iraqi rocket launcher,
Shake that Laffy Taffy, jolly raunchy rapper.
Bang, bang, bang, skeet, skeet, skeet!
She do that thing for three retweets,
The album feel like '92,
Now take that ball ‘fore he three-peat.
Chance, ho, acid head, cruisin' on that LSD,
Asked Joseph ‘bout my deal,
He looked back said, “Hell yeah, let's eat!”

[Chorus: Chance The Rapper]
This shit my favorite song, you just don't know the words,
But I still fuck with you, you just ain't never heard.
It go like, “Count that stack, pop that cap, then down that Jack,
All my niggas hit that Xan, and all my ladies bounce that back!”
This my jam, this my jam, this my jam, this my jam,
I'm ‘bout that jam, I'm ‘bout that jam, I'm ‘bout that jam, I'm ‘bout that jam.
This my jam, this my jam, this my jam, this my jam,
I'm ‘bout that jam, I'm ‘bout that jam, I'm ‘bout that jam, I'm bout that jam.

[Verse 2: Chance The Rapper]
Young Rascal Flatts , young ass kid ass could rap,
Fuck all the faculty, tobacco-packin' acrobat,
Back-to-back packin' bags, back and forth with fifths of Jack and
Fourths of weed, I'm back to pack on hands
With Young Cletus to pat my back.
Real nigga with a nose ring, that's right,
Just here to rap them songs,
Rag on my hair, wrap weed in Vegas, rockin' Vagabonds,
Sang a song, oh, you don't know? What?
Well, I still bang with you,
Hang with you, sip drank with you,
As long as I can sang with you like.

[Chorus: Chance The Rapper]
This shit my favorite song, you just don't know the words,
But I still fuck with you, you just ain't never heard.
It go like, “Count that stack, pop that cap, then down that Jack,
All my niggas hit that Xan, and all my ladies bounce that back!”
This my jam, this my jam, this my jam, this my jam,
I'm ‘bout that jam, I'm ‘bout that jam, I'm ‘bout that jam, I'm ‘bout that jam.
This my jam, this my jam, this my jam, this my jam,
I'm ‘bout that jam, I'm ‘bout that jam, I'm ‘bout that jam, I'm bout that jam.

[Verse 3: Childish Gambino]
Niggas, please, be focused, that Bino, you know this,
He rep the home of Sosas, you know, I'm from that Zone 6,
You know, I rep that Stone shit, you know your hood is so clit,
As God as my witness, this Will Smith spit real shit.
Imma be that, CG busy gettin', where the weed at?
Bought your girl some new kneepads,
You're fuckin' with the fifi bag.
“My stars, egad!” She said, “This my favorite song,
Hold my purse!” Now she on the floor, droppin' like it's hot.
You blast this shit in Abercrombie when your work is finished,
Your mom won't play it in the car ‘cause it's got cursing in it,
Your boy like, “I'm the one who showed you,” he want his percentage
‘Cause you were like, “This ain't the nigga you said spittin', is it?”
Two-step, white dude's Harlem Shake.
Why you laughin'?
‘Cause you Harlem Shake.
I was never fake, I was just too good to be true,
That's acid rap, we killed the track,
You had your Chance and Bino too.

[Chorus: Chance The Rapper]
This shit my favorite song, you just don't know the words,
But I still fuck with you, you just ain't never heard.
It go like, “Count that stack, pop that cap, then down that Jack,
All my niggas hit that Xan, and all my ladies bounce that back!”
This my jam, this my jam, this my jam, this my jam,
I'm ‘bout that jam, I'm ‘bout that jam, I'm ‘bout that jam, I'm ‘bout that jam.
This my jam, this my jam, this my jam, this my jam,
I'm ‘bout that jam, I'm ‘bout that jam, I'm ‘bout that jam, I'm bout that jam.