| Kev Brown what up
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| Roddy Rod, Marshall Law what up
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| Sean Born, Eye-Q, Al Green, Quartermaine what up
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| Caliber, Oddisee what up
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| Hassaan Mack, yU, Slimkat, Kenwood what up
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| Cy Young, Early Reed what up
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| And to the younger soul brother Grap Luva, young Toine what up
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| And to the whole Low Budget what up
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| Battling my demons
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| Tryna grind even when it seems you’re defeated
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| Tryna find meaning in this green that I’m chiefin'
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| Like the smoke hold hidden messages
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| Know what it’s like to go cold, catch your second wind
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| Put the choke hold on those saying you would never win
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| All the while looking for a better blend
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| Wishin' I had a better set of friends to believe in
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| But it’s just me and them Low B niggas
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| And I’m low key sicker, was gonna be humble
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| But they wanna see me stumble like a Old E sipper
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| I’m a cold beast, that’s where I suppose we differ
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| I’m just tryna get my karma straight and voulez vous couche' avec moi
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| C’est soir with a fine lady marmalade
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| Doing what I do, they say Starr look like he fake
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| Nah I don’t respond to hate
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| Say what you want, I’m just tryna get my mama straight
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| Waitin' for the day my father get from out them iron gates
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| Used to rap more now a nigga conversate
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| I done found the pocket now a nigga gotta dominate
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| And when I get in beast mode
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| Call me Parker Lewis, can’t lose I got the cheat code
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| PG bred him and you see me reppin'
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| That 757 'cause I do it for my people
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| Off a fifth of the henn rock, they can relate to what my pen jot
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| They rather hate than give praise
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| Mention my name, you can hear a pen drop
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| Not itching for fame, I’m just tryna get props
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| Too much to ask for? |
| Fuck it, I just rap more
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| Giving 'em a crash course, dozen and half bar
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| Type of spittin' that’ll have 'em sending in a task force
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| Giving 'em that vision that they listen to the track for
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| And this goes out to everybody that doubt
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| Runnin' they mouth and don’t know what they talkin' bout
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| Rest in peace to Jay Dee, let me talk it out
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| They say word, K.B. |
| came across a style
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| That make herb ass niggas wanna toss they towel
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| And keep it movin' like a foster child that’s half gypsy
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| To emcees I’m like ten feet, they half pygmy
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| The other half pip squeak, I’m a flask of jack whiskey
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| To bad kidneys, shut it down fast quickly
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| So whoever wanna cross us now, if you that dizzy
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| Come up off it pal, I get that busy
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| Been in position to get offers now
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| Alotta subliminal disses gettin' tossed around
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| The backlash worst than Rosenberg when he bashed Nicki
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| We just tryna preserve culture
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| And if you counterproductive we shruggin' a cold shoulder
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| Off a fifth of the henn rock, they can relate to what my pen jot
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| They rather hate than give praise
|
| Mention my name, you can hear a pen drop
|
| Not itching for fame, I’m just tryna get props
|
| Too much to ask for? |
| Fuck it, I just rap more
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| Giving 'em a crash course, dozen and half bar
|
| Type of spittin' that’ll have 'em sending in a task force
|
| Giving 'em that vision that they listen to the track for |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song The Movement II , by - Kenn Starr. Song from the album Square One, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп