Lyrics:
So come check the magic show by Deshawn,
And witness the way I put you to death with a magic wand.
Turnin' your home to a casket,
Turn your wife
With skinny jeans, lip rings
Black hair and a bunch of eyeliner
And I'm stuntin' Co-Op, it's
My only fuckin' designer, so
So fill me in, ladies
What's
fuckin’ crew
Sick of the way you treat Mexicans blacks muslims and jews
Fuck fox news
White Uber Eats delivering they call me brokeboi
Drinking Fiji with no
dope
That leave the pros all chokin
Take a toke youll croak
Im the main event
You barely the opener
Make one wrong move
By lettin me get close to ya
a wrap it's the gritty city
That strong-armed onto the map
More than a rapper, in fact
Man, you fuckin with the finest here
The best one that's rhymin here
dough
Not a rookie in the game i'm a certified pro
Gettin' Bugs Bunny money
I'm with Warner Brothers, ho
If they haven't heard about him
Then you ought
Motherfuckers fear me, I blow up spots like Ed Leary
Violent pro's even with guns like Sharon Stone
Mack ass nigga strikes again, chalk my win
Kleptomaniac
go get your work
And keep your beeper chirpin' is a must
Is you on that dust or cornstarch
Familiar with that smack man
The music is like that
go get your work
And keep your beeper chirpin' is a must
Is you on that dust or cornstarch
Familiar with that smack man
The music is like that
back woods a burnin'
Back in the days I couldn't get one wordin
Now I park valet wit boys outta Cali
Playas on pro's like the mother fuckin valley
If you
Barack and Michelle
I'm like an electric car
Out of my shell, I plot and prevail
Pushin' these bars like I got out of jail
You ain't fuckin' with it
Well
Touching bodies, thumping
Oh, she's smoking on something
I'm so eager to be fuckin'
I can feel her, yeah, she wants it
I ain't with all the hesitation
the rookies, six for the pros (NAH)
Seven for the numbers of them fuckin zeroes (WHAT?)
Eight for haters, nine for the cause
Ten for my niggaz, behind big
got with it in hoopties some in drop-tops
Look at love-love, fuckin with this top-notch
boombastic, ghetto dope now, fly gymnastics of passion
with
a newer gym, boy, these some buck pros
Glocky got a kick and sent you back cause it got four rows
I be mad, but fuck it, I'ma calm it down
I spit so fuckin
pro-bono
All-Star weekend floor seats by the coaches
Flying all frequent, reclining on beaches
Half a millie on the road, y'all relyin on features
I ain't
"Get on the bus", go get your work
And keep your beeper chirpin' is a must
Is you on that dust or cornstarch?
Familiar with that smack man?
The music
the 'Preme by any means
(yeah) i pop an Addy just to keep the sleep
I roll a three-five with a cookie
(yeah, yeah)
Feel like I'm pro but we know you a rookie
thousand play on the way, I'ma alley-oop it
Straight to my mans, I ain't fuckin' with no average hooper
You think I ain't gon' get back for that one shit
the go go
I cannot chill with these Bozos (Clown)
I'm fuckin' they bitches on GoPros
None of y'all thought that I'd go pro
That girl a bird, she a dodo
back again with the old-school flow
Rap game's changed but I'm still a goddamn pro
I got my pen and pad, I'm ready to go
Bringing back the real, letting
milk (nah)
Fuckin' bitches like Wilt still (style)
Made it off the deep, coulda got killed (ha)
Or locked up, we don't fuck with death (ha)
But guess
fuckin peace of mind
Shootin ten millimeters of thoughts, thats just my peace of mind
Give me mine, I gotta go, I gotta eat, I gotta shine
This is my
a pro
I just thought I'd let you know you
Can't take my brew away from me...
[Bizzy]
I gulp my 40 kinda slow; I like to savor it
And while the niggas try
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