Older Gods

Ayo I roll like a bat out of hell Evil acapell's fly spittin' out of my grill Before I hit the sky with springtime colors Juicy as a Sunkist, certain broads double dutch this They carve it in they wrist, pales berry blazes Straighten the crumbs left on the stove, clothes in my lady hair Plus yours the look gold God, the old tainted bald technique Got these vestibules designer niggas in they whips Jumpin' out they seats, eighteen, Bronzeman Part II We like Dorothy Hamill on ice We in your hood we might circle, hats down low in the Range Switch lanes, change my tire, peel out Real loud on the stage yo, I shitted on your hood kid I shitted on your hood, got to your burner too late I'm lookin' real good, draped out Shinin' like a fresh fifty cent piece, your girlfriend, come here Oh shit, you my man's niece, the gourmet pocket twenty Bombs made of clay, Sexcapades take place We fucked in forty-eight shades might walk up in your studio Time slap your engineer, it's lighter fluid to that style Hand me the matches now Ayo rainbow Roley on the wrist, now what's this Niggas bless this, eight and a half, Bally banana twist E shakes, puffin on lye, feedin' the seed's plate Pullin' out, old dirty eights to rob gates Major wake up, the kid telltales, make a nigga head wake up Beats break, the nigga would take off his time Honolulu status, gladdest The rich rock cabbage and dollar vans grands That nigga mad savage, stationary Hall of Justice Niggas came clumped out Just came home, now they bunked out Money be longer than triple life Til the sun burn out, that's my word Move it with the burner out Fidel way of thinkin', roll with the Mac bent Ac-10 Most of my team, Five Percent check what the live said Rollin with Guess vests pedestrians yo Holdin' my nuts, fuckin' thousand dollar lesbians Yo, the Older God put me on and had to rock this Maintain Three-Sixty Lord live prosperous It only takes a lesson a day, just to analyze life One time in the respectable mind Yo, the Older God put me on and had to rock this Maintain Three-Sixty Lord live prosperous It only takes a lesson a day, just to analyze life One time in the respectable mind Let the shot spark, soon as his pit bull barks Tire scars from skid marks leaves from jams in school parks Witness, forget his, original statement Even in protection programs there's no escapement Gunned down, we in town, hit king from seven crowns Spent rounds catch him while he rhyme in the Zebra Lounge Wounded, back in the eighty-three summer heat Up in three-oh-nine park, rhymin' off the drummer's beat I stalk the city streets demonstratin' mic wrecks All lookin' stank, I ain't playin wit a full deck And as they nervously stare, I know they scared They saw the coming of Wu, the neon in Times Square Household name, assassin, killa bee Mill to the grain, that possess the Wu, trilogy Quick to spot those that bite camouflage and blend Those that got styles, they got identical twins Don't stretch the small thing, copycats are finnicky Without skills, they master the art of mimicry But I go line for line on the whole page Your unspotted life on the mic is old age