| Chest out, ten toes down
|
| Left routes been shown now
|
| Tech shouts, them foes frown
|
| Next bout, you stretched out, we test clout when in yo' town
|
| Ex’d out, full of debt doubt cause the best house we hold ground!
|
| Better run now, don’t come around my way
|
| Gonna be dumbfound when the gun sounds cause sun down is my day
|
| Meaning I don’t sleep, but yo food yes I’m gon' eat, alone peep
|
| Anybody tryna get the grown seat better gone, it’s gonna be a long week!
|
| (Rah, rah, rah!) That’s what they talkin' a lot of em bumpin' they chops
|
| But they can never compare to the winner, they simply be giving me something to
|
| knock
|
| I slay wack, just play back my hits
|
| So you better stay back on this great track cause I made that my bitch!
|
| You wantin' this, I’m on a mission too
|
| So you ain’t gonna get what you wanna get, this one I’m kickin' through
|
| Hit they mama, quit the trauma, hid dishonor gets to shoot
|
| If you want a bitch, a ton of shit cause I’ma hit your crew
|
| Bout to knock you out yo' skin, go in body, then I’ma go chin
|
| Place yo' bet, you gonna hate the Tech
|
| Cause I’ma break yo' neck, we ain’t no kin
|
| Dreams and hopes will be broken when that flow spin
|
| I’ma fo' sho' sin, level headed when the rebel get it
|
| Heavy metal fetish when I go in!
|
| PLAY BALL!
|
| SLAY ALL!
|
| War paint on my mean mug
|
| Accolades, I got dumb clout
|
| Back to back I run mad laps
|
| When the sun’s down or the sun’s out
|
| Sara Jay on my side arm
|
| Y’all ain’t tryna see me with guns out
|
| With mo anger, that’s no-brainer
|
| So y’all niggas better run routes!
|
| I heard something 'bout
|
| Anybody can get it, I’m with it
|
| I’m coming for Sun’s crown
|
| When I hit him he done after one count
|
| Yeah I’m living, I love it, my lungs loud
|
| When I come from the scrummage
|
| The scrimmage, I did it, I done it like what now
|
| We could put up some butter and do it no stutter
|
| But put up or shut up your bum mouth!
|
| Now it’s your move, took a chump out, I’m so old school
|
| Yeah, say hi to my little friend
|
| Kill 'em with the pen, make the dynamite go boom!
|
| Talk about big balling, and it may seem like I’m stalling
|
| When I’m staring outta that wall and
|
| Bombing like Babe Ruth when I call it
|
| Yes y’all it, and my bet’s all in, heck nah, never let y’all win
|
| In the game, everything a test to check
|
| To see who can really hang like a net, all in
|
| Come and train with the Ces, yeah
|
| It’s no thing little bunny, I can bang with the best in the biz
|
| You better be saving all of your breath for the gym
|
| Gotta run until there ain’t nothin' left in the lid bruh, let’s get it in
|
| You heard me, chewed 'em up, I’m done early
|
| Suited up in my jersey, feelin' like who or what can come serve me
|
| Y’all too corrupt to come prove to us your kung-fu
|
| You suck, you’re unworthy, dirty like Harry makin' my day
|
| Tell 'em I come to slay when I play, break!
|
| PLAY BALL!
|
| SLAY ALL!
|
| K-I-M, and I kill shit
|
| You could say that I slay turds
|
| DIB and I K-I-S, y’all L-A-F and those eight words
|
| On my D-O-B I was D-O-A, but I came up out of that coma homie
|
| ODB, I take no T-O, I’m like Oscar Meyer with no bologna
|
| Killer and I’m dealin' 'em, I’m wavy
|
| Sinner in the center of a stadium, ya numb
|
| And now I go gorilla for real, uh, fuck I’m off the wall for real, uh
|
| And I’m an inaudible offense as often as needed
|
| Y’all slower than molasses, run screen passes, Weeden
|
| Ya get hit with a blitz, boy
|
| Just for thinkin' that they couldn’t catch this
|
| And when I run a muck, I’m puttin' numbers up
|
| Go and take you a look at my stats bitch
|
| My contract’s got no cap, and the money is under the mattress
|
| I stay high like A. I, what the fuck are we talkin' bout, practice?
|
| PLAY BALL!
|
| SLAY ALL! |