Lyrics Boom!Bap - Stann Smith

Boom!Bap

Yeah
Name’s Smith
What up?
Shoutouts to
Shoutouts to me and
Shoutouts to ya’ll
Yeah, I drive gyms like a mother quick to call her
Fear my brother, never call a girl my lover
Yeah, my names Smith
Screaming Every King
We almost famous, suited up
It’s some Adidas,
See me doing shows, magazines wanna intervene
Always on the road or the streets cuz I do my thing
Nappy headed fro, let it grow, stayin' crisp clean
Everybody love me can’t compare me to them dummies
I make my own money, you don’t even own your masters
Your suck ass label couldn’t get a show in
Market and gorilla, hip-hop instrumental builder
Entrepreneur, I’m the black Derek Sivers
Everybody love me so I’m climbing up the pillars
You divin' in a pool and you ball, play billiards
I hustle in a pool or you a pool swimmer
You’ve never seen a que ball, you a pool sticker
I had an argument with a hipster
He said I should get a deal with a
A deal with the risk of shady ass
Then he told me to take his card
I looked him dead in his face and told him, «Kiss my ass»
What you think I went to college for, to get a job?
You the type to write rhymes to buy a different car
And another, resonate with fans so they doesn’t understand to be the
heavyweight champ, uh
They buy my shit cuz they gon' love it when they pop it in
And they buy your shit cuz they your friends, oh well
Way too cheap to sleep inside a hotel on tour cuz shows might not go well
Sleep in the back of the car or a motel
Profit ain’t guaranteed, my love for it propels
Me either when I’m havin' slow sales, rappin' like my predecessors boombap with
no bells
I don’t drink or don’t smoke L’s
I’m not concerned with your wack ass
Heard you on your last mixtape, it was half-ass
Heard you on your new mixtape, it wasn’t that bad
Until you said, «on the drop» and I just pushed stop
I’m not with the fads, miss the funk and the jazz with the turntable scratch
and the
Levis and the black tee like Booker
But gotta be a hip-hop T like Pusha
Illuminate the bass and the beat with the kick drum
In my kingdom
That’s why them rappers tryna jack it and they be mad cuz they see me on the
come-up, yeah
They try to throw shit at my shows, took De La Soul flow, I’m just a mofo
Sellin' the whole show but I did it for dolo
No, I did it with my fam, every king has
Put them posters on the wall of them undergrad dorms
Got my first encore a Abigail now I can lounge cuz my name’s on the club bill
I don’t even drink liquor, but I got my cup filled
I know promoters, I booked it with the owner
So much secondhand smoking put me in a coma
I started feelin' dizzy by the smell of the aroma
Man, I started chokin' cuz the smell was hella vulgar
So they kicked em out the club as drunk as Coca-Cola
Man, I’m writin' rhymes about the world and how I see it
These rappers writin' lies about the girls they never be with
I can’t write a club song cuz I never party
I’m all about my business, when they reach me, then you call me
If I don’t answer leave a message or a text
And I’ll respond prolly' to the number you request
I don’t think in music you can call yourself the best
Cuz everybody brings somethin' different from the next
And I’m bringing somethin' fresh, yeah, I said I’m bringing something fresh,
right, I said I’m bringing something fresh
Yeah, I said I’m bringing something fresh and every king and my name’s Stann
Smith, yeah, I said they call me Stan Lee, yeah, Mr. Ever-ever-y
rap every king has, yeah
Yeah, what up P3, what up Kid?
Every King Over Everything Thing
You know the slang
Keep the sayin' till we dead high in the sky for us until we under six feet
deep, they gon' scream «Every»
And on that note
Go back to playin' Modern Warfare