Big K.R.I.T. - Jackin' 4 Beats lyrics

[Intro:] Hey whats the motherf**in' deal baby? K-R-I-T in the motherf**in' booth Hitlab studios, Multi Records, 3-0 B, Queen City I'm jackin' 4 beats n***a [Hook: Big KRIT] The k**a K gonna blow off anything you drivin' Five in the mornin' (?) knockin' Hey, I'm the hottest, it's my CD they coppin' Hey, I destroy you anywhere, anybody [Verse 1: Big KRIT] Hey, you n***as talk a lot - I see it in your nature You ain't feelin' me? Ya'll motherf**ers haters But, I expose the fake asap, the K clap Pull up in a Maybach and leave a hater face flat With no remorse for him, better call his peoples He couldn't feel it in the air, he was Beanie Seagel I showed up breakin' bread, takin' name, and givin' orders Yea, I'm something like Troy, universal soldier I made it in the street but, they heard it miles away How he known in Atlanta? He live miles away I'm that 'sippi shawty, no more cotton pickin' Unless you talkin' white-tees and throwbacks I'm kickin' We pop the tags and buying bars while our bumpers drag They gettin' mad and jockin' hard cause those n***as f*g I'm 'bout my paper, you can keep the f**in' fame dear I'm touchin' down, I'm about to change the game here [Hook: Big KRIT] [Bridge: Dem Boyz B] That boy got flow, that boy gone grind That boy gone blow, that boy gone shine That boy got hustle, that boy got fire That boy done struggle, that boy gone ride [Verse 2: Big KRIT] Okay, when you see me, don't speak unless it's 'bout some cheddar I ain't in the closet, but I got Barrettas I know gorilla n***as, call 'em jungle fellas They ridin' on propellers and open up like (?) On them n***as that claim they gutter and own the spots I'm Mr. Clean, I street sweep n***as off the block I don't fare well with n***as talkin' down G The K's a Buddhist in this game, I don't eat beef I just k** bars and flood hoods with sick beats And make n***as quit rappin' and get J-O-Bs Because I'm hot with it and they not with it I could sign after I die - blow and sell millions I touch the hood with the swagger, sayin' flow's a miracle They way I spit up on the track, some would say is spiritual I got the Glock Four, I sell it all for profit I got the South with me shawty, can't nobody stop it [Hook: Big KRIT] [Bridge: Dem Boyz B]