[Verse 1]
Sprite in my water cup like an adolescent
Lately lately I'm writing first with no second guessing
Drunk conversations escaping my recollection
These rappers scared of me but they pa**ive and less aggressive
While I'm attempting to stay up outta they exes mentions
Ain't no way that you got enough to bars to get reception
So I can't even take offense that you don't get the message
Her sugar daddy don't know that she in my bed with breakfast
I just got back from Vegas. They have to hate it. I'm just tryna get acclimated they say I'm actin famous
I'm half and half between laughing and acting aggravated
Back to basics
Never did me this much without masturbating
This corporate money had Domo flying. That's no coach
When we ballin' it's Rucker s**er that's no coach
You so so so. Shows out SoHo
They way I'm running tracks we got these hoes tryna pole vault
I guess we can do one all the way through...
[Verse 2]
Groupie hoes jooging they think that I'm getting all this cash
She ain't heard of me but saw I'm wearing an artist pa**
Kindey Stone booty. The harderst a** still hard to pa**
Cardiac. And treat the beat like a heart attack
I think I just saw an angel in Anaheim
Gotta break the habit of baggin girls who're fans of mine
All about that action. No words. Man I'mma pantomime
So That boy tool gone make you dance when it's hammer time
Welcome to Atlanta sign only missing the STNDRD sign
Cut my vocals I handle mine like a samurai
Hotter than Atlanta in leather pants and a flannel I'm
A thousand watt bulb in lantern man you're a candle light
I'm getting used to sh** I used to have to dream would happen
They seen less off scholarships than what I've seen from rapping
Tryna k** a n***a dream like Martin Luther King's a**a**in
I'm staying here. f** how green your gra** is
[Verse 3]
(Phay)
What the hell I gotta do to prove that I'm the f**in truth?
Im'a go get Paul Pierce and he gon' say it to you
You looking for the minute maid, but I got all the juice
Wifey in the four door and my chickens in the coupe
I'm a stupid mothaf**a I'm a fraid to leave the stoop
All I gotta do is catch a plane and you gone' know I flew
All she gotta do is gimme brain and you gone' know she blue
Catch's by surprise and I'm feeling like uncle Drew
Fake'em to the right and I left his a** in my view
My homie she a dyke and I also call her my boo
You acting like a b**h and she gone take your b**h from you
Runnin' laps around you while she rocking Jimmy Choo
Custom Adidas but my ego don't need no boost
Jesus turned the other cheek, but f** your f**in' truce
We just tryna eat but you takin' my brother's food
So I'm about to make this the last supper for you
...I'm from the six, but I got different views