| It’s time for me
|
| I never rhyme for free
|
| At least pay attention
|
| You know, let your mind be free
|
| I think by now everyone knows
|
| My funk flows will ease the pain
|
| Because MCs we brain
|
| Make 'em nervous
|
| Here for your service
|
| Infer this
|
| Clear to any rapper that is wacka
|
| I’ll slap ya
|
| I talk shit that’s amazin'
|
| The days spent
|
| Inside my crib producin' had me boostin' my confidence
|
| Now I will stomp some sense
|
| Into those numbskulls
|
| I leave 'em dumb-dull
|
| I thank you the listener
|
| Cause if it was up to me
|
| If yall was girls
|
| I’d be kissin' ya
|
| And the brothers get phat pounds
|
| And goin' round is phat pounds of indo
|
| No brown
|
| I puff sess at the rest
|
| Unless they have the bomb beta
|
| And now my mom made a turnaround
|
| She wasn’t concerned & clowned
|
| Mostly
|
| Now I get ends & my job is not pretend
|
| «It doesn’t phaze, I amaze wit my phrases, play this in your Jeep, so
|
| Your neighbors lose some sleep (I wanna thank you)…»
|
| I wanna thank you
|
| Cause my dank grew & flourished
|
| Nourished ny hunger
|
| Sure, it’s me indulgin'
|
| Never will I bullshit some other finna frame
|
| If you’re a beginner here’s my name
|
| DeL! |
| myster, ya shyster
|
| I’ll heist your jewels & tolls & leave ya fooled
|
| Moot
|
| I never get soot
|
| My ends that I got last year will probably still get resooped
|
| I know yall’re sick’n tired of these weakassniggas makin' records
|
| So just check what I delivers
|
| I send shivers down ya spine
|
| I’m incline to bind and put together clever conversation
|
| Cause I’m dope without the leather
|
| Whether or not, my spot is never taken
|
| Or forever breakin' on new rhymers
|
| They flock around, wanna be down & two timers
|
| I will design a flow that will remind ya
|
| Dumbasshoes and a path go
|
| Go to a spot where I know that the grass’s sold
|
| «I love to roll a fat stogie, if you’re out there you can roll one too
|
| & listen only (I wanna thank you, peace)… |