Lyrics Trunk of My Computer - STS, RJD2

Trunk of My Computer

Trying to sell a milli out the trunk of my computer
Blow up like bubble gum you heard the story like Bazooka
The center of attention when I post up like a
If it’s in their problems then I pass it to my shooters
When the Buddha’s in my system will I fuck her will I
That’s the shit they be yelling
Fuck that shit you be selling
Ain’t no telling what you cut that with
Wouldn’t touch that shit with a long pole
But I suppose that ya’ll don’t see the go
Fuck with me the long way
Don’t fuck with me the wrong way
Ask a man politely with a gun like Al Caponay
I meant to say Capone
I meant to say
When it started for this shit slip right from the dome
I slip right in your home
I slip like vocal tones
They see right through your speakers
I’m reaching out to meet you
If I don’t get to greet you at a show you should know
Appreciate you very much that you would fuck with a flow
You know how that shit go
I could go bat shit bro
Until that fat lady sang I got the rap shit sold
And when my Mac unloads from my Itunes folder
Motherfucker don’t be acting like I ain’t told ya
Or act like I owed ya
Something for nothing
Cause ain’t nobody give me when them records wasn’t playing
And the po were trying to sue us for something we never playing
To make short change I was just a heavy fan
Goddamn
Ya’ll niggas trippin' man
I put that work in
Every beat gets a murkin'
STS from ATL if you been searching
Like undercover PO trying to find weed on my person
For something that’s gon' get you up but not your certain
Nothing’s promised or honest like eh
Proclamation’s I’m making I only make
To the rhythm I give 'em these quotes antidotes and they dope
They full of hope when you’re broke
And you both barely float up the river
Don’t you quiver don’t you shiver don’t you shake
Rivers lead to greater things in life like oceans and to lakes
Give you that one you can take
Then go home — mediate
Take an honest inventory on yourself
Hold up wait
Hold up mate
I can’t fake
I can’t flake
I can’t
I hard being legendary when a loser
Must go hard that’s my theory
Sigmund Freud
Ya’ll don’t hear me
Dear lord — if you really listen this will be the one
I been trying to reach the Sun
I can barely touch stars
And my arms too short to even try to box God
Box Chevy with the 15s in the trunk
From the Southside homie if the shit don’t thump
They gon' chuck that at an Amoco pump
Can’t fight that funk when it hit you in the face
Like mace that burns when you learn they don’t dig what you did
But you did what you did cause you did what you do
Hell I been through it too
When the record courteous but aloof
Show some cool
Fuck a suit
Had to show 'em who the truth
But the proofs in the pudding
Putting on for my city
A-town back to Philly
Look at shawty on the
All started with a poem and a and dutch and a whole bunch of us in a cypher
with a lighter and a freestyle to bust
Motherfucker look at us — look at us
Look at us you finally got the memo
Didn’t think I’d make it this far
As I think back reminisce on my demo
I’m glad I had this time to evolve
With most of all just society’s ills
I was concealed in sound proofed booths
Eating loops of instrumentals
A pad a pen to pencil the pictures I paint of mental
Quite simple like a Shel Silverstein nevermind
All these niggas really want to do is do it for the vine
the gram never gave a damn if people liked me or not
I stay in my space doing what I think is hot
Don’t need no Facebook friend
Family is all I got
Now folk will flop when they see you as a cash crop
Same folk will flock when they see the cash dock
Can’t stop now we on a roll again
Roller coaster bends
Ups and downs and the turnarounds
Hear the funky sounds banging through your eardrums
RJD2 also me too
Enjoy what we do
This ain’t no freestyle
Homie had a child and we both trying to eat to