I don't even be fuckin' with that other shit
That shit hurts my throat man
I need that shit that tastes like fuckin'
Fuckin' soap joy, Ajax shit ayo
This is what I be doin' on that

Orlando Magic warm-up suit's and black Shaqs
'95: younger Bronson on the fast track
To blast gat, now I'm looking past that
I want the cash stack higher than the NASDAQ
I put the work in
The downtime I'm cooking lamb
A thousand Dutches in the air
Like it's a reefer jam
Aretha jam, you better R-E-S-P-E-C T me
Or risk the forest where the
Motherfucking rest your team be
Peking duck, and large liver, goose carver
Swiss Bally's
Smoke cigar just like a new father
You know the motto, jacket to the knee
I can't help if I'm a fiend, I
Had to tap into the beat, lord
Spark a seance, cause everybody lifted
I'm like the strainer with the
Fucking powder being sifted up
This is Queens Day
Alleys where the fiends play
Yo cuff the Guess on the construction
Take it easy

This for my people making sales
Until they back hurt
See the beast on the creep
They let the Mac squirt
Bitch on the backs, that do
The dippies on the bikes, and
Loud pipes and rocking leathers
Like a wild Viking
My man who just came home
And some are going up
Fiends up in the alley
Sippin Balley fucking throwing up
Keep your mind straight, focus on the prize
Always diving into thighs
Blowing smoke into the skies

Bronsonelli the problem
We got the party reeking
Never see us starving
All my people hardly speaking
When it's time, though
We form into a single file
Spray the fucking ballcourt without
Hitting a single child
Hop in the Beamer, Pigeon popping the nina
Getting top in a steamer
Scoping rock in a Tina
Hooker, that type of looker eat
The pussy from the back
Take the children to the
School, baking cookies
Serving packs all day
Know the verbal, is Oscar-winning
You cop a squat to piss in
Only focused on them rocks that glisten
Suppositories in the ass of you
The green Fila with a Horsey
How this motherfucking bastard do
Bet the crib that you ain't
Fucking with this grown man
I'll E honda a thousand
Slap you with the whole hand
Sex a dime, herbally, a blessed time
Check the rhyme motherfucker
Better recognize

This for my people making sales
Until they back hurt
See the beast on the creep
They let the Mac squirt
Bitch on the backs, that do
The dippies on the bikes, and
Loud pipes and rocking leathers
Like a wild Viking
My man who just came home
And some are going up
Fiends up in the alley
Sippin Balley fucking throwing up
Keep your mind straight, focus on the prize
Always diving into thighs
Blowing smoke into the skies

The eyes slanted from the origami
I roll a quarter of the water
Near the border, where you oughta find me
The Tamborine Man pumping while
The Tyson burning
Air Tech Challenge, clay court
Checks balance
Stay endorsing that weak shit, my team spit
That mean shit
Like stepping in some fiend's shit
Now you sick to your
Stomach because you stunted
Word got fronted
Another motherfucking jerk confronted
Post pattern, Lonnie threw the loaf at 'em
Flushing, motherfucker
Keep a toast up by the gold Saturn
Little doulas on the block we
Tell 'em "go stab 'em"
Relieve him of his shoes
It's easier to toe tag 'em'
Carhartt sets and Horseys like the Preakness
Bronson love a freak bitch
Dining on that Greek dish
That's the a-hole, all my people AWOL
Cash inside the case and now the
Judges want to play ball

Copyright: Universal Music Publishing Group
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