Lyrics:
Don't make me come check mate
Chess them
Mash up them man like Tekken
Hold up
Will Smith pull up with Wessons
Make man sing don't like Westrn
I don't
Take over your body like agent smith
Young nigga need a hunnit bands
Tax a nigga like Uncle Sam
Run up on me wit my gun in hand
Choppa make em do
the world they just don't understand
My man Nas Escobar, Wu-Tang Clan
Keith Murray to the Redman, down south Da Brat
My people are you with me where
{all together}
(lyrics not printed)
[Butterfly]
The season's been good like a sweet
I hang out with a gang out Flatbush with cool beats
I foun
trickle down hit the roof
Make a stain
But would they really stick around
When you new? They remain
When you're old, would they stay?
Would they sing Sam
remember when i used to tell em Stay With Me like Sam Smith
Now i know what a ten is (tennis) like Stan Smith
Bitches used to talk about the man then, now
you
You need me man, I don't need you at all
You need me
I sing and write my own tune
And I write my own verse
Don't need another word-smith
marked down as missin'
Listen, circumstances put me right in the street
With the will to survive, get paid, eat, and sleep
Some weep, or should I rather
Nah but f'real f'real, a lot of cats comin' into it like
Yo what could the industry do for me? No
What could you bring to the industry?
What could you
My friend actually asked me the other day if I write my own lyrics
And I told him yes, 'cus like, I'm not gonna no bum-ass lyrics from someone else
right
And still I sit and lie awake all night
Oh, You better strapped with your gat if you wan' walk with me
I bound to come down with the new style
a word he said
To find some street, said he wanted instructions
So I turned down the music
To point out directions, guess what?
Guy jumped on me messed
like
Every day
Will i make it
Yeah I know i will
But i gotta pray
Like sam smith yeah
Yeah i gotta pray
Yeah i gotta pray
Lately i been working
On my
act like they love me but really I know that they hating
Aye, Nigga will send a shot over the net over text with a smith and a Wesson
Up on the yacht
Who the hell you think you are, comin up in here ya damn Yankee?)
[Erick Sermon]
You just pull a gun out on me?
Now you know you done fucked up
Sam G The Native Spitta
Two-Siiiiiides
Yeah
You stupid if you tryna count me out its best for the people to count me in
I don't know about them
I strike hard like a python
J smith I live as a Icon
I'm the type to catch a body with the Lights on
On me I see where the eyes on
On me with
Samsounds on yuh soundsystem
A Caribbean ting now
Check me now
Picture me with a sound engineer
Putting top class music down in yuh ear
People say
system get drop a daddy Mighty do dat
[Chorus]
Come and get your lyric, get your lyric non stop
Sound FI get drop, Smith & Mighty do dat
Sata dem,
it's on me now
Now I see they can't hold me down
Even when a nigga was zoning out
I was on the path, I was on the route
Something waiting for me in
them said I could, I was tryna K.O.D
Demons named Sam Smith, the way that energy could stay with me
I just wanted closure, miss when granny used to lay
And my lyrics really really dope
And you know we got the best smoke
So
Come down Paradise
Let's go
Shake that back like you've been tryna throw your hip
marked down as missin'
Listen, circumstances put me right in the street
With the will to survive, get paid, eat, and sleep
Some weep, or should I rather
Let's see if he can be ya savior
When I cave ya chest in with me murder weapon
They can't find out Smith and Wesson
Only glocks and street machines with
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