Lyrics:
on instrumental
Records, hey, so I can write monumental
Methods, I'm not the King
But niggas is decaf, I stick 'em for the cream
Check it, just how deep can
On the night of the last rap that I write
The Devil and God gon' have a fight
Check it, head to head
Tiga, toe to toe
Try'na figure out where I'ma go
All
Check this
I excel, they fell, I said, well, hell
L can yell or make 'em melt like gel
I signed the contracts that buils up stacks
Play the wall
Here he goes again
Heard a tune called "Who's Got Lyrics?"
I made a tune called "Stupid Question"
Fam I got flows again, I
Write the wickedest lyrics,
hey, hey, check it out homie
Man, you need to get up out of this spot man
And get a job man before you get smoked man
(Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah,
checks
Balling hard like i play for the pats
Dirty Dan so I'm making em mad
Clean em up someone get me a Glad
Getting money yeah straight to bag
Laseup
like got no dough
[Chorus]
[Verse 2 - Spek, Lu]
in the middle of my nights I check my late night flicks
I'm up at night trying to write
teacher from my home room
Said I wouldn't make it
Stupid bitch I told you you lied
So I called Trae Tha Truth
And I hit Project Pat now
We balling
No time to speculate
Gold on my teeth
Like project pat dats facts
And I'm bout racks Like Jigga
Cut throat world ion trust myself or
Dis bitches even
Project Pat to fall but the money piles
*** know I'm off the chain, wild as a child
There ain't no need to ask, gangsta's my style
Kept my street,
the fucking hook bro
Ya'll man look, check this shit out
Mystikal and Juvenile nigga
Say juvey they don't believe you did the beat bro
What you mean nigga,
pocket period Sirius X one of
You dumb bitches out living life up in this bio sphere hears
What this nigga's about hold on check it out yeah yeah
I was
some crips
Stainless steel snug to my hip
Gotta give the streets my cred
Showed me how to water whip
Remember bumping three, six
Project pat a bunch
missing them
I've been on the wrong side of fights
I've lately been having some sleepless nights
I don't get offended, I check who's right
I go through
It's the bomb, baby
The bomb, baby
With no ifs, no ands, no buts, and no maybes
[Verse 1]
I walk through the projects with stress in my hands
I be all in you like you disrespected space in my lyric zone
I'm like a pit, with a leg in his mouth, I bring it home
Bumpy ripping everything
a pit, with a leg in his mouth, I bring it home
Bumpy ripping everything known, block every blow zone
I make you sit your ho ass down, turn off your
(dear lord)
I don't want to stand here
All night in this bar
(no shit!)
I don't want to stand here
All night in this bar!
By two o'clock,
weed got a case of gangrene when it's angry
I act like Scarface up in your project hallway
Make sure you're all covered by AllState
Me and them beats
the crowd
Snatchin the microphone real proud
But your rhymes are so booty you should write em on White Cloud
So next up down the line, Scrap Lover
[Scrap
checks (identity theft)
I was the first in the ring, a Rolls Royce in my projects (yeah, ooh, ooh)
Don't get me wrong, I love myself, but I love identity
on a check worth a million
I can feel it if you come 'round for benefits
Rude as fuck, I will not be no gentlemen
I talk to god 'cause I know I'ma sin again
only human, I'm not always in the best of moods
But thanks for giving the gift of rap to write my feelings down
And sorry for cursing sometimes but
[Shyheim:]
Yo, yo
I spark the mic like weed that's in a cipher
And I get girls open like a reggae song by Tiger
So check me out, as I flip this here track
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