Lyrics Manny Pacquiao - Fashawn

Manny Pacquiao

Like a chemist;
guess who just kicked in the door
With a fifth of Jim Beam in his veins, G on his chain
Me and the Gang, pitching them game
Like Chris Carpenter, roll with a thick squadron
What I oughta give you artists is a trip to a mausoleum
Showstopping you gotta see him
Next time probably riding something European
Where the fuck’s my passport?
I need to get out of here
High enough to kick the stratosphere
Roll the carpet out, your majesty’s here
I’m velour, y’all cashmere
The champ’s back and you can’t cheer?
Besides Christ ain’t a spirit that this man fears
If I ain’t the best, I’m damn near
Tell me how you plan to hang with a chandelier
Your whole camp queer: gang of Pam Griers
To all hustlers: I’m fronting work
Never wanted to wear cleats, just wanted to run the turf
Beef twice, I be burying niggas
He’s nice but don’t compare him to Jigga
Let’s get one thing… crystal clear
I’m a magician dear, cause I made all of my peers disappear
Y’all ain’t rappers, y’all actors: Richard Gere
And the fact is you cats should switch careers
Two things real: my niggas, my bitch' hair
I’m on my tenth tape, sixth year
Umm… maybe a little longer, it made me into a monster
Patient, everyday I was getting stronger, wait up
I had to get my weight up and be an entrepreneur, straight up
Was told, «Follow the light, you’ll shine bright, just give it time»
I write, keep in mind that it’s a grind.
Watch homie
Some can’t endure the climb so the top’s lonely
Still, it feels like I’m barely getting started
Possessed by the dearly departed rap martyrs
Middle name Mustafa, some think I’m a prophet
Most say I’m a problem impossible to fix
Commit a massacre like Al Capone
With a flow and a style unknown;
a Golden Child is grown
In a zone on a cloud of my own
This time around with my crown, my robe
I flew thousands and thousands of miles from home
So ciao to my pals in Rome
I hug the lane I’m an Aston, bang like a Maverick
With the aim of a trained assassin and so it remains
You lames is as-if, past tense and named a has-been
Fuck what you heard, here’s what y’all forgot
Gotta stop pretending you are what you not
When this product hit the block every jaw finna drop
Bitches hopping out they drawers and they tops
Like they clothes on fire, just to roll with the sire
A level much higher, bout to soak the sky up
Ha!
He’s just boo
Mafioso, I’m giving niggas cement shoes
Let 'em sleep with the piranhas
I’m leaving rappers resting in peace in their pajamas
Stop snoozing, I’m comfy in my spot and I’m not moving
You’d have to send a shot through him
God forbid that ever happen
Ready for whatever action
In case I gotta spin your melon backwards
The technique is elephant rap
Type of shit leave your skeleton cracked
Like I hit you with the heaviest axe
I be leaving footsteps on the track
Now I’m embedded as a legend in fact
I’m a double barrel shotty, a Pacquiao blow to the body
And that’ll make you niggas convert: Ali
…Punk!