| Check me out y’all
|
| It’s Elzhi in your area
|
| Bout to back slap and bury ya
|
| Check, now let me show you how I blaze it
|
| Leave niggas in amazement on ways spit
|
| Shit trickier than a maze get
|
| Everything I drop raw cut you like a chop saw
|
| You should stop, like when a cop draw before he drop y’all
|
| You get your fort crushed actin out of sorts
|
| You don’t support us, you must snort dust ridin' the short bus
|
| Cause I’m an animal, scratch that I’m the manual
|
| Pull out, swingin' the metal like mechanical
|
| Movement, soon as the groove hits I prove that you need improvements
|
| Since I’m so smooth with whatever I maneuve' with
|
| And I ain’t braggin' player you get your spot got
|
| What I jot is hotter than the dragon’s lair
|
| It’s only right you should show me light
|
| Because the flow be tight, I wouldn’t slip on a snowy night
|
| I vex, now who should I bomb next
|
| New schooler or an old timer like a timex
|
| Simple minded with a complex
|
| My glare disrupt the cameras
|
| I keep promoters scratchin' their name out and tearin' up they banners
|
| When I write cigars flare again
|
| The bars buried in the song is bout as strong as barbarians
|
| Far scarier than the Omen
|
| Chicks give me dome in my home while I’m sittin' spittin' poems watchin' Conan
|
| This for my real heads and paragraph addicts
|
| I kill the air time impairin' the asthmatic
|
| It’s like that, you know it’s like that
|
| I’m who you internet haters want to strike at
|
| Don’t make me show up to your porch with a spiked bat
|
| And leave your front and rear tires on your bike flat
|
| Defeat and kill, delete your skill you think you sweet until
|
| I cut you off and leave you in the cold like you haven’t paid your heating bill
|
| Fuck your squad and your street appeal
|
| Eat a dilznick clique fleet until my kicks is in your leader’s grill
|
| For real
|
| It’s Halftime
|
| It’s Halftime
|
| It’s Halftime
|
| It’s Halftime |