[Intro]
What?!
[Verse 1: P Walsh]
Produced by Kelpto Habits
I open up when I'm rapping
I'm dope enough like I'm cracking
I'm choking ya like a**a**ins
And I do not f** with ratchets
Just like the south with black kids
And Safavids' religious practices
Tying up other rappers like Arachnids
(What?!)
Every time I pick up the mic it's like I'm writing a diary
You're going inside my mind, inside of me
Get some insight on me before you despising me
Fed up with fighting, lets take a break and in time we'll see
I'll just keep grinding timelessly
Hate feeling like a toy
Just something you're picking up when you're bored
I'm not your f**ing Tonka Truck, your Hungry Hippopotamus or white board
And I'm not your Little Tikes plastic motor bike
sh** ain't no Fisher Price, homeslice
This ain't no game
God works in mysterious ways
What parents say when a situations go astray
Everything happens for a reason don't be dismayed
Okay. So I guess a kindergarten getting sprayed was just all in God's play? C'mon
[Hook: P Walsh]
What?!(X5)
[Verse 2: P Walsh]
Simple beats make me spit these a**ists like Pistol Pete
Wrists'll bleed if I don't meet my mission, please listen deep
Fishing for notice like sleazy b**hes teething P's
Leaving ya knees thinking at least this sh** ain't free
Chowing down y'all might as well have met at Mr. Meaty
Pound for pound your down and pound seems so unappealing
Feeble as this beats inventor's faith in Jesus
Would be so surprised to see him when his hearts ceases beating
Thumping like the gun is when cousins running in trouble
The treble in this instrumental settles my schizophrenic mental
Never meddled in the metal or contended cause the feds'll
Blend and shred your life like a shredder to the cheddar
So I never tell a tattle tale on my fellas to send them to the jail cell
Or make them wait until the senseless bail sells
Sick and heating up like the holes in layers in the O-Zone
Chilling brains and freeze them when spraying like I'm Frozone
Spilling sk**s, release them and leave them just saying "Oh No"
[Hook]
[Verse 3: P Walsh]
They tell us never to lie, then they say to be polite
But I always been so nice so telling a white lie was low price
On some Top Ramen rhyming while in top climbing
Jacking jobs and Bean Stocking, beat the giants, get the gold, styling
It's irritating how liquor is the every rappers irrigation
Oh well, it's been this way since the foundation of Roc Nation
Jigga in a tune said nobody's in his rear view
Only made sense cause I'm in his blind spot pa**ing real soon
I hope someone hit Zimmerman with their Bimmer, man
k**ing him would make protesting children chill and settle down
So the them use their feet, feed the street, hold that pedal down
Old a** rappers have repeated flows
Only dealing with these retreating hoes
No beefing bros, I just think its time to relieve the throne
Like you're already gods that got so much dough
What more could you ask for? C'mon, Give these little kids a go
[Outro: Ak]
Uh
Yeah
What?(X2)
Yeah
Uh
What?(X2)