[Verse 1: Stann Smith]
Dope as I could be
No name hoodie
Sold counterfeit sh** to your cla** bully
Buzz like Woody you can't see the hits
I'm on their a** like Huggies with all that bullsh**
I play Yugi-Oh cards
And con k**ers in cards
Second deals and false shuffles
For cash is how I hustle
My past... such a present
My fans say I'm the future
My teachers say I'm brighter than bra** but I maneuver
I pa**... False humor
I laugh and keep it moving
With cats... that smoke hash and cut Cubans
That second hand make my asthma start fuming
So I'm back BOOM BAP I'm like the black Rick Rubin
You follow fake pimps 'cuz you wanna get brain bad
I got enough Curren$y to make ya Dame Dash
Try to sleep on me said I sound like Ye'
It's "808S And Heartbreak" on every beat I play
EVERY...
[Verse 2: P3]
If they all Christians...
f** it call me Dior
Leave 'em all depressed, like Eeyore
Lanes merge ahead so I had to form a detour
I'm tryna run the whole Atlantic like Lior
And they all recall, the rhymes that I write
I guess they like every last line that I write
My father said "Why you up this time of night?"
"'Cuz dad it's my time, so yes the time is right"
EVERY...
And f** XXL with they top 11 Freshmen
I'm like Larry Bird sneakers, I'm a weapon
I take 1st, never satisfied with 2nd
When I sceam EVERY you know just what I'm reppin'
I go hard like watchin' Nicki Minaj strip
They couldn't get the picture, I enlarged it
I'm Old Skool like a streets of rage cartridge
No strings Attached on some broken guitar sh**...
Aw sh**, P3!
[Verse 3: Stann Smith]
Metaphor strike poetically I'm Bill Bellamy
I could teach you how to be a player for a felony
Every hard bars
'A leave you in squad cars
I never cared
Turn a double dare to an Aardvark
Besides being poor was important
We needed imported goods to pay for our mortgage
But I was the big if
I pitched ideas they pitched bricks
I pitched my only single to blade to get spinned
I never rapped to be cool
I never thought it was
Back when I would battle in school and rock Nauticas
Have the biggest crowds in the room just recording us
You know Rap travel like news the beat coroner
And honestly I got them beats to make ya spouse jump
And I got them songs to make a crowd of nuns riled up
Fruits of my labor making juice to surround us
And I turn into a beast for my peach like Bowser (Wowsers)