Lyrics:
Yo, yo
Three twenty-seven now AM.
Eight twenty-three
Fucking matters
Yeah
From flipping burgers at McD’s
To morning shifts
At some factory
To not
and the beat was by Trackster
Title of the song was "Po Pimp"
I said, "Ooh, snap"
I told 'em I'm about to jack
Spit it funky like I'm a mack
I'ma come off
unseen
Quick to cut on any concert quack
Lip-synchin rhymes off a raggedy tracks
He claims to hate me, swears I can't beat 'em
I drop a new jam, the punks
heavy in our chest
Memories of Eight Twelve Arlington where we put life to the test
Rob and Tonna laughed it off with our collie dog by our feet
But
she ugly as f-"
Tired of looking back
Trying to look in tact
Tired of seeing money by the gram and losing track
Tired of cookie cutter friends they
wrote that track last night
That's right
If me and that nigga battle it'll be his very last fight
Ate him up down to the last bite, with maple syrup
Tales from a rusty old town where the sunlight beats down
Dazzlin' lights yonder takin' gold by the pound
Shack down by the tracks, hat way down low
of the front of the future when you are mentioning talent
And I'm in the back in the back of the block with a cop wanna cop anybody's allowance
Iraq
If it means that I'm living it
Head back
Back
Back
Back
Heading to the future
While you stay stuck
All in the past
Past
Past
Past
Run it to the present
A narrative hijack
To stir up the tracks
Beat it guys
I don't need no feedback
Mm, is that so?
Guys...
Mm, yeah, I do wonder
If Hazel would agree
Oh, fu-...
And you can't block me
I been always living By The Code
Like my name Blocky
(Shoutout Blocky)
Beat the beat up
Rocky
Even if I lived inside some cardboard
god
This for my Rose City niggas gettin' hella high
Flip fly 8-0
Pussy by the payload
Why would I indulge when I'm low on that peso?
So I had to stack
soul spins.
Verse 3:
Through CRISPR's gate, we step beyond,
To the beat of science's unbreakable bond.
AI and human, side by side,
In this new dawn, we
the zone all by myself
I'm alone all by myself, I'm on my own
But homes I could set the tone myself
And make the track that I could rap on myself
I wrote
the past
present or future but built to last
now as the beat hits it knock you out your daze
remember the beat was just first phase
Riding The beats with
a beat by Pharris at them country club parties
We'd be hot as hell and House studs would yell "Aight, now money!"
Sauers I would go there, hip-hop clubs
a choice follow in my father's steps
Or man up and get farther yet, father with the steps
Sort it with four quarters or four tracks
Before orders of four
panels to the ring of a unifying blood pact
Broken in by reckoning that greed and money was the right track
So I fly into the night
Astral project
- it's on track eight, by the way
I hold my hands up and sing along
All the angled shadows hit me wrong
I move out; pump my head to the beat
You lie
bumps, tryin to rap on beat
I cut your fog lamp down like meat, cut, by the pound
Heather B, step to me, with your thin sound
Twist your knobs, your
immaculate beat
Blast with the heat, impact with this accuracy
Last one to sleep, just imagine what happened to me
Factory made, back to the graves and they
down
I let it happen now
Married to the city, all I rap is vows
The tracks profound
I still hit you up by habit now
Can't break these habits down
Aww
to hang or link, my future man I'm gambling
My handle really handling, full speed traveling
Focused on the tracks now the tracks need a following
Homie saw
mention me
Thorns in my side are just pricks
A waste of energy call me what you want
Ain’t phased by my title
Believe a notebook, I’ll lie on any Bible
I’m
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