(Chorus)
Hol' up! This ain't ya typical hook
Oh nooo and damn sho ain't ya typical flow
Just a youngin from the South. No gold mouth
But gold words til the whole Earth sold out
And he got a prime time mind with ragtime soul
You wanna take it to the hole? Let's go!
Shawty, you can bump it out ya Nano yo
But I'll just keep it comin out of my piano roll
(Verse 1)
One time, two times, three and to the fo'
Nicky G's comin yeah I'm back fa mo'
Latch the do'. We don't want no one escapin the blast
Hand me the gas, watch a ba*tard blow
Like Master P in '97 when he made em say uuhh
I'm just tryna make em wake up
Make em raise up with a new nation and new stations
Erase all straight fakeness from the equation
Minus Fendi socks. I'm tryna do for hip-hop
What Black folk did for Lindy hop
And that's wreck it. Throw on a record. Bet I'll spray it
I'll AK it. In one second. Now check it
It's the cliche slayer. The new-age mayor
The leader of a legion with allegiance to the layers
Young Scott Joplin Jr. of the future
With my 88 keys tuned up
(Chorus)
(Verse 2)
The second act is packed. With more curse than the first
So if you thought it was bad, it gets worse. Much worse
So bad, if ya favorite rapper ever tried to beat me
Then you'd prolly neva see him again
Another dead bum with head lumps. I serve em Red Rum
On the mic, I flow nice and throw em breadcrumbs
If they ever come for me, it'll be a short story like
"Once upon a time, the end." (Check it out)
I wield words with the sk** of a swordsman
It's more than might. I'm like a samurai mixed with a knight
I swing blades like "Sling Blade."
A sickle in my soft palate. All of my competition's tossed salad
And I'ma wild until a thousand islands bearin' my name
And I can view em from an airplane
But I'm feeling anxious cuz I'm up against so many trials
Walk a mile in these mud-stained Chucks. Ya can't!
(Chorus)
(Verse 3)
Act three, act three. I pound the black keys in anger
I'm workin on a club banger. So I hit a crescendo
And rattle windows til the whole town sense danger
I'm exhausted. Just by lookin, you would think that I lost it
I'm workin on a grand project. Notice how I'm focused
On dopness til every quote of his a magnum opus
And I'll be worth my weight in platinum tokens
I forego form for free-form. No music sheet for him
Like jazz man, it comes from the soul
Like Louis on the horn or a Monk and Coltrane session
I'll turn a Bic into the same weapon
When the music is good, you get respect from the hood
Middle cla**, and the rich. Yo mama a fan of this
Young Black mastermind from the 9 Dime
Soon to be cla**ified top five
(Chorus)