Lyrics:
trying to make art, mother fucker; you're trying to find a rhyme for erection
I'm sorry, man! No, I'm fucking not! F*ck you
You're second class! That's why
dead opp
Won't give my name
To no red cop
Young money mind
Make the bread drop
Patek Phillipe
Dropped a bag on my jeans
Don't chase these hoes
Cause'
She got booty by the bundle ass drop like a fumble
Bitch I'm in the jungles like an ape causing trouble
All I do is hustle till I start seeing double
today (straight up)
Might go extra-extra just so I can see they face (Hit-Boy, straight up, damn)
Keep X's and O's and interchange, yeah
Hit three in
X and a drop top M
Call me iceberg slim can’t fuck with him
2k on weed - hell, that’s a bill, 5k on lean
I'm leaning now
Drunk two whole pints, I'm
Drugs for papes, now I'm sellin' CDs and tapes
Funerals and wakes caused by greed and hate
A snake is still a snake no matter the size or shape
Those
And I ran away in school
Only god has a clue
Of the shit I do alone
Leave no evidence or proof
Just like Johnson it go poof
On my own in my thoughts
with a weapon, the whole world will stop for a Second, cuz homie
Im out here trying to get it, i got no time for games
If you aint got that on your
Venom on denom
c sting that can kill your stardom
in about 20 seconds learn your lesson
Im a nigger that easily Ripped or torn
looking fly at the same
like to know what's in my pocket or not
It's no ploy, it's no gimmick,
It's the chance of a lifetime to see something that's never seen by mere mortals
Drop on the window pane, the oxygen is cocaine
It drove lots of men to die with no name
I been on boats, nut down throats, pee on bitches who famous
reminiscin' of a bodacelli
I'm like a cheetah huntin' out on the Serengeti
I got my X-ray vision through all in my way
No Plan be , it distracts from Plan
quit the last mile is always the least crowded, uh
Get what I ask for, fuck who they clap for
My mom is on her second passport, Ritchie Blackmore
She
Been a Gemini
Fuck a bad bitch in the back of the seminar
Walk around real Royal with it like an Indian
Nigga want beef, no money? Please come again
I
pay no child support
Because the bitch left him without a second thought
He got nothing to eat, no shoes on his feet
She even left his clothes out
tore it apart, then threw away the key
Got me second guessing, got me stressing over you, look what you did to me
(No, no)
Now my heart is cold, you did
put work in to get at the top
Cookin and cookin until I drop
Failure is never an option
I want them to say that I’m poppin
No days off, I’m
chilling don't piss me off off this ten pill
Bro caught his second hat he call himself kill bill
Don't open my shit I need my pint with the seal
Give you
Yellow PT Cruiser, yellow 'Lac on rims
Drop yellow 'Vette and a platinum Rolls Royce
That's seven different cars, everyday I got a choice
On my way
with me and my grip (I hear you)
I drink that St. Ide's shit
and smoke a ticket at the same time
Drop a wicked bomb on my naughty nature
I'm livin
Cause I'm in this by myself
Never needed any help
No friends
No Crete
But I'm still up in that heat
Wanna pull up next to me?
Get Blast! That's on G
I got
Havoc
Fuck it I'll be ready by February
As long as I'm first not secondary
I think it'll hurt if I'm second dadddy
Don't wanna be more than her second
I'ma flow 'til I got no choice, or better yet no voice
But still by that time I hope to write enough rhymes
To own a fleet real estate with a rolce
drinks and spending money
I mean shit, we both won Scribble Jam
With less preparation
So with less than a day I had
To think of what direction I'm taking
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