| Yeah
|
| Yeah
|
| Yeah, ayy, man, listen
|
| Soulo hold a prophecy, I got a premonition (Yeah)
|
| I’ma let the beat build and do some demolition (Yeah)
|
| Interrupt your whole style, this an inhibition
|
| Kamikaze everybody, Eminem edition
|
| Yeah
|
| Haha, yeah
|
| Yeah
|
| (What's this?), uh
|
| This the, this the flavor in your ear, and it’s brand new (Uh)
|
| Craig Mack been back, bitch, where you? |
| (Where you?)
|
| Started from the bottom like a square root (Yeah)
|
| Then we kept it in the family like an heirloom (Squad)
|
| Wagyu, medium, I’m in rare form
|
| She hit the split, landed on the dick like Air Jordan
|
| Will he raise up? |
| I got to know (Yeah)
|
| Uh
|
| Nat Turner with the curly hair (Yeah)
|
| Pullin' strings like John Mayer (Uh-huh)
|
| Probably make a bitch wish come true out the blue (Yeah)
|
| Rub the oil lamp and I’m there, yeah
|
| Monkey see, monkey do, my nigga, ask Abu (Huh?)
|
| I’m on a magic carpet stompin' down Central Avenue (Yeah)
|
| Del Amo Boulevard was all I knew
|
| I sold my dream to Punch and Dude, they turned me to the fuckin' truth (Facts)
|
| Yeah
|
| Haha, yeah
|
| Yeah
|
| Hah (Uh)
|
| And the flow is alpaca (Rare)
|
| My state of mind is more NASA than half ya (Yeah)
|
| Yeah, black lip pastor
|
| 'Bout it 'bout it, baby, illest nigga in Nebraska
|
| Outlaw breakin' all the rules (Huh)
|
| Pac ashes in the spliff, I’m un-topable
|
| (Will he raise up? I got to know)
|
| That’s all I got for you
|
| Yeah, uh
|
| Yo
|
| Another moment of most dopeness for Malcolm McCormick
|
| On the prowl for another style that I stick a fork in
|
| The steak was eighty an ounce, my elbows on the table
|
| I got manners, but breakin' the rules is what we came to do
|
| My lady built like she belong in a stable, I’m on my high horse
|
| They call me Soulo, the irony is to die for
|
| (This ain’t a movie, dawg), this bag ain’t full of no popcorn
|
| You ain’t up to par with me, nor are we on the golf course
|
| Hidden gem like a YMCA in the boondocks
|
| The weapon shop could not keep secret for too long
|
| I’m Dangeroo Kipawaa, refrain from gettin' involved
|
| Or your safety’s at stake for sure like a surf and turf you enjoy
|
| Raw backwards on all of you rappers, you heard it before
|
| The rawest rapper of the planet’s name is Herbert IV
|
| Sex, drugs, money, and mayhem, the workers of Satan
|
| Still take 'em to church and say, «Amen,» my words in a playpen
|
| Ridiculous, the sickest with it, you just a common cold
|
| So novice, I’m the post office pushin' the envelope
|
| Moosa had to remind me who the god was
|
| I ain’t on my knees, but I’m praying on him regardless
|
| Matt need a new crib for his baby
|
| So big, he be forgettin' where the crib for his baby
|
| Dot told me, «This time, we demandin' respect»
|
| Milk the game for all it’s worth like a mammary gland, ayy
|
| Man
|
| Yeah
|
| Wait for it, wait for it
|
| Soul |