| Doing all the shit could watch the room clear
|
| Philistines who are they
|
| And drop-crotch junior watching knobby sweats
|
| Sipping mango lasse on this 'loppy steps
|
| Lifted obvious, Elucid spit the pyre, pro’ly for the youth dem
|
| My few for this position distant, assume pretention, nickel defenses
|
| While I read intention, rover back dacks, grease kicked under helmet
|
| His condition make him dish it, fell asleep with the L lit
|
| Anubis met me at the entrance, listen
|
| Due in remembrance, sip the nectar
|
| Echoes thump in the wall, knocking mad professor
|
| Brooklyn Canaanite temple rusher
|
| God is love and I just wanna fucking thrust deeper
|
| Pull out, nut up on her pelvis, shoot well in from the gut
|
| I’m a sour brock puffer, snuggie hazard, orange scully
|
| Shopping for stock and stuff 'em
|
| I see colors when I touch the track
|
| Most young kings get they head chopped
|
| Lumpy flat top, Nike’s pro’ly but dad stopped
|
| Soft rocking these logging rappers, catch leg drop
|
| Across throat, off the top turned buckle
|
| Adjust my singlet, power moves spoke in broken English
|
| I sinked it, now streaming, spilling pepper sauce on this kingfish
|
| Prosecco by the magnum, yeah they gon' catch a bad one
|
| We’re all gonna laugh at you
|
| We’re all gonna laugh at you
|
| We’re all gonna laugh at you
|
| They’re all gonna laugh at you
|
| When they rushed in look on his face pure astonishment
|
| Cops' wet dream, they let him cook, then crack like moccasin
|
| Pussy-whipped King Solomon, moving on up hicks in Jeraleman
|
| Round stone smooth, deals you can’t lose
|
| Eyebrow raised, lowest, Armand Hammer with the sickle
|
| Superstitiously speak riddle, casino cameras swivle
|
| The escorts fake gable, common few, one heckler
|
| Lone government off sectors, bad husband, bitch is a broken record
|
| One you make it this far they’re all victory cigars sky wide like Texas
|
| Put a nigga on the map, whites come when the night’s black
|
| Chinese New Year outside the shotgun shack
|
| Put 'em up on that, five in service, hit the sky
|
| through the beat ons said nigga rack
|
| Hat to the back, jacket flack, BQE
|
| Driver’s seat left rad as Iraq
|
| Crest play on the last laugh track while you frown
|
| Buried forms pile the shore, crack Barry Bonds
|
| They wait for you on the way down, it’s a rap
|
| One smart neighbor, a tip of the cap, a flip of the jack
|
| Your ship lifts in water thick with flea and rats, stupid |