| Fuck rappers, ban 'em like flavored Dutch Masters
|
| Your cuts after I listen to 'em with much laughter
|
| Champagne slush my campaign Krush
|
| Grooving, powder Peruvian, black Nubian manoeuver
|
| I’m like Max Julien to Cougars, with more racks than Hooters
|
| Wasn’t for rap I’d probably be head of the pack
|
| Pass the straps to shooters
|
| Pockets lacking Gouda, that’s when niggas pack the Ruger
|
| I caught a cool run, my crew runs shit, Hilltop Hustling logic
|
| Rock your pillbox, I still got a couple of projects
|
| Niggas can’t fuck with my accomplishments
|
| The Don is supreme sonic, Ebonic, speaking in phonics
|
| Reminiscing on hand to hand, running from big knots
|
| Now it’s G&Gs all over my silk top
|
| Amongst trappers, in the cuts we clutch clappers
|
| Ain’t another nigga die for nigga, fuck rappers
|
| Fuck rappers, niggas 'posed to been dead
|
| Bled through the Band-Aid, I’m Pinhead
|
| Hell raising, I lay blades Clive Barker and Wes Craven
|
| My neck’s craving, I savor the flavor
|
| It’s savoir faire save my fear for the saviour
|
| For all the rest of y’all I got a bomb, Jaeger
|
| Especially you rappers, fuck all of y’all
|
| Fast forward then backwards, sick chiropractor
|
| I’m hot like the sand out in Cairo, a pyro
|
| Maniac, a klepto, braniac I’m zany
|
| Pop it like a Xanie, declare war, Cheney
|
| My ho is like Claire Huxtable, hard lustable
|
| All these rap niggas gassed up, combustible
|
| Feminine internet niggas, fucking weirdos
|
| Me and Planet Asia like Albert Anastasia
|
| But we Asiatic, original fabric
|
| Never fabricated, ain’t got it, never had it
|
| Used to play ball now you want to be a rapper
|
| You know what, fuck rappers
|
| We puff puff past 'em, turn niggas to blunt ashes
|
| Consider me retro and vintage
|
| I’m blowing dro out in Venice
|
| A role model and my role is simple
|
| That’s captivate your soul and control your mental
|
| Teach you how to hold a pistol
|
| Go to Nobu and order the whole menu
|
| Glow like I wrote it with a solid gold pencil
|
| G shit, cause thorough is how I keep it
|
| Niggas know, every block every borough, it ain’t a secret
|
| Flow rare like the first hair on a Mona Lisa
|
| Check your intellect cause you’re in front of a teacher
|
| I roll the kind of reefer that’ll give you amnesia
|
| Don’t believe it well roll up a gram and have a damn seizure |