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people want to fill the world with silly love songs and looney tunes 



And some got sad songs, mad songs, and moody blues 



There's good news
stay attached to corners
Hood rats plotting, riding for the blue cheese
All for the Gram, grams and a new weave
All they gotta spend expands, and some
Mansa Musa
Pharaoh Monch & Pharaoh Sanders
It seems I got low tolerance
And high standards
Seems I got questions
That defy answers
If you were rich while
blues
Steady hollering about some time
Bitch I need some Room
Don?t get me wrong ya?ll I love females
That come around but after while, I need some self
I
And when I see you I'ma take what I want
So, you tried to front, hope ya (got yo'self a gun)
You ain't real, hope ya (got yo'self a gun)

My, first album
take what I want
So, you tried to front, hope ya (got yo'self a gun)
You ain't real, hope ya (got yo'self a gun)

My, first album had no famous guest
[Verse 1]
My, first album had no famous guest appearances
The outcome: I'm crowned the best lyricist
Many years on this professional level
Why would
take what I want
So, you tried to front, hope ya (got yo'self a gun)
You ain't real, hope ya (got yo'self a gun)

My, first album had no famous guest
checking to see if it's talcum or coke
I can kill you by drowning the globe
Or I can just spit inside of a hole and put an ounce in your throat
In battles
85%, I'm 400 solid
Brainbolic wit knowledge, cock-diesel scholars
Holdin' it down, walkin' around wit gold by the pound
Frozen down wit diamond bolders