| Wack niggas sleep rappin' and woke up in trouble
|
| Wack niggas with that sleep rap and then woke up in trouble
|
| You were cool ten years ago, you fucking Lex Bubbles
|
| Yeah
|
| Brand new tires, Rollin down the same old strip
|
| New party, same old chicks
|
| I’m so sorry if I don’t look happy to be here
|
| In your label office, but they said I can’t smoke weed here
|
| Man, fuck it, I’m out
|
| Black owned, and I’m 'bout it, fool
|
| I got a studio in my house
|
| Along with some the perks that come with my work
|
| Pretty twenty-something sleeping in my Diamond Supply shirt
|
| There is not a adjective to describe how I work
|
| Hard is not enough brother I’m tougher
|
| Wack niggas with that sleep rappin' and woke up in trouble
|
| You was cool ten years ago, you fucking Lex Bubbles!
|
| You gotta know when to hold em', know when to fold em'
|
| Learn how to roll with the punches
|
| Take em' to school give these niggas brown bag lunches
|
| If it ain’t the Jets, then it ain’t nothing, yeah
|
| Yo, the king closed his cloak, the set was overfull
|
| Such a excellent moment, so emotional
|
| He rushed out on the field, so devoted for
|
| Final victory clutch, they went postal-code
|
| Glory overload, hold up, hold my coat
|
| Please! |
| Remember this day
|
| This changes everything, we can do anything
|
| Until you show anyway
|
| My momma told me, «Son, always call a spade a spade»
|
| Be like Chuck D never be like Flavor Flav
|
| But that clock around his neck is so fly
|
| And the way he complimenting Chuckie with that bow tie flow
|
| Make me feel high so I’m gon' spit it my way
|
| Excuse me as I do me cruisin' rudely down the high way
|
| I’m young, black, intelligent, elegant, blasé
|
| Back to the thesis
|
| Back to to shooting craps and talking smack to the polices
|
| Back to black and gold Ballys, Dickies with the creases
|
| Pulling young’uns by the coattails, schoolin' em' who the beast is
|
| I pray this flow is dumb enough, ugh
|
| I pray my heart is DMC and Reverend Run enough
|
| 'Cause I’ma throw my number up
|
| I’m a throw some chicken bones and feathers on a hundred bucks
|
| And summon up the thunder, what!
|
| The voodoo man is coming, bruh
|
| Can’t see the forest for the trees, it’s okay
|
| I got my jigsaw and my lumber truck
|
| Tell them boys their run is up
|
| Yo, the king closed his cloak, the set was overfull
|
| Such a excellent moment, so emotional
|
| He rushed out on the field, so devoted for
|
| Final victory clutch, they went postal-code
|
| Glory overload, hold up, hold my coat
|
| Please! |
| Remember this day
|
| This changes everything, we can do anything
|
| Until you show anyway
|
| We ready for anything! |