| I got a box heart made of prose
|
| Shot target, aim at those
|
| Rock star favor so it’s not hard to stay afloat
|
| Me and all my 'A' to 'Z', we got along so famously
|
| Pretty far from famous though
|
| City scar but hate is home
|
| Pretty broad, painted toes, feelin' so unfadable
|
| Winnin' like we 8−0, I’m just tryna let you know
|
| Exchange of flows, cash checks at the bank and loan
|
| Fresh like change of clothes
|
| Sex, lights made it glow
|
| Set time, day and show, feel my vibe radiate
|
| Made it for the radio, sat it by the radiator
|
| Next life may be thought, shout out to Eusébio
|
| In this rhyme scheme his name’ll go
|
| I’m just sayin' though
|
| Daddy told me, «take it slow, son, watch ya baby grow.»
|
| Truthfully, my baby grew these days, I got a 8 year old
|
| Makin' dough, startin' LLC, let him take control
|
| When I tour, I pray he safe alone and don’t break a bone
|
| Streets not paved with gold
|
| Keep watch, wait and hold
|
| These blocks crazy cold
|
| I seen rocks made of soap
|
| Beat cops Jason, when will fiends stop slangin' dope
|
| He watch, they condone, we got to break the MO
|
| So I took a brake, I ain’t tryna take a brick
|
| Get a «e, change the code, I quit
|
| That’s the way it is
|
| I wanna tell myself
|
| What is more dangerous
|
| I let him run the streets, or teach him foreign languages
|
| Aside my pen, enslaved by the rent
|
| Landlord on insane
|
| Tenants sayin', «not again»
|
| Some things never change
|
| Never mind the weather vein
|
| Hope the raven nevermore
|
| Better pour when it rain
|
| Throw bread I claim, never bang
|
| Livin' in this neighborhood
|
| It’s red as flame
|
| Haters couldn’t get his name
|
| Said it plain, makin' sure they let him reign
|
| Then again, the etches never came
|
| David Letterman
|
| Notice they, hatin' us cause the way we makin' dough
|
| Must be cause they ain’t figured out a way to make it so
|
| Take control, suckers wanna sit around and wait to blow
|
| Inspiration fake and moments have to wake and bake a bowl
|
| Shakin' so, sick of social media, I hate the troll
|
| All I need is riches, y’all gon' witness as I break the MO
|
| Crack the code, put them hands together, get to clappin' foes
|
| Then release the Kraken, back in action, yeah I’m mackin' hoes
|
| That’s lingo from '94, yeah that’s how it used to go
|
| Nowadays, I use the glow, Kaboomin' like Bazooka Joe
|
| And you should know
|
| Money’s short, them dockets need a boost to grow
|
| Undercut us and my brothers prolly won’t come to the show
|
| From below, so wonderful, from Killer City to the MO
|
| He’s a man with many faces, not the dude you used to know
|
| Movin' through maneuvers so maneuver yo
|
| Ass and get to roamin' like a numeral
|
| Assuming you intuit flow
|
| (Stop!)
|
| Aside my pen, enslaved by the rent
|
| Landlord on insane
|
| Tenants sayin', «not again»
|
| Some things never change
|
| Never mind the weather vein
|
| Hope the raven nevermore
|
| Bet it pour when it rain
|
| Throw bread I claim, never bang
|
| Livin' in this neighborhood
|
| It’s red as flame
|
| Haters couldn’t get his name
|
| Said it plain, makin' sure they let him reign
|
| Then again, the etches never came
|
| David Letterman |