[Verse One: Ipkuss]
Stupid...
I got my black socks, my black mops
& a brown paper bag man i'm ready to race
I got my capslocked, only fat tops
In a brown paper bag man i'm ready to race
Yeah, so just wait around the block
I'm keepin' ups never am i persuaded by the clock
Or invaded by some cops
Chicks hittin' me but i'd rather be paiting on a rock
While they're faded on Ciroc
Sad, 'cause it's the alcohol advertisements you amped on
Find me on your corner filled in like a scantron
You think your mans gone, but i'm catching three more
Only caps that you got on lock is ya laptop keyboard
[Verse Two: Ipk.]
So how is it i'm considered a criminal
While your commercialized delivery systems message subliminals
Its, critical seeing & hearing at a developmental age
It's minimal how i'm bellowin' with rage
But still i co*k back, the three-eleven g & let it spray
We on my graveyard shiftin' never see me in the dayy
You can catch me in the bay
Or in ya local shop rackin'
Ya name ain't catchin' fame so tell your folks to stop braggin'
Off tops, we make sure the wall's copped then vanish
Sun doesn't rise 'til the next hour, lets take advantage
We have the upper hand & it's apparent that you plannin'
With well-funded marketing techniques, life-spannin'