Canei Finch - Clap For Me lyrics

[Intro: Dion Jetson] Yeah It's your boy Jetson and we got something special for you tonight We brought along SeVen1 and a very special guest Broadway We'd like for you to start this track with some claps Just clap for us please C'mon, louder, louder, louder [Verse 1: Dion Jetson] Call me a seasoned veteran Tell these rookies grab my bags cuz they can't touch my Letterman Late nights bullsh** Cartwright Awkward shots lay you down like iron mike Let the pigeons fly we soar like eagles Desert but I cross the pond like a Beatle Dreams of a million all ones all legal Since the fetal had dreams of selling out the motherf**ing regal Hold your applause, I don't f**ing need it ARod Rap syringe flow, no conceding So Conceited my own lyrics I'm repeating On the same track but we ain't competing Y'all run sprints, We run marathons I carry the torch you just a carry on f** a finish line, whole life a victory lap Don't call it hip hop call it winner circle rap [Hook: Dion Jetson] I ain't trying to hear the lies y'all n***as tell Fake followers, fake record sales Pull your skirt up n***a, its show and tell Now clap for me b**h, like Dave Chappelle Clap for me, clap for me, clap for me n***a, clap Clap for me, clap for me, clap for me n***a, clap Clap for me, clap for me, clap for me n***a, clap Clap for me, clap for me, clap for me n***a, clap [Verse 2: Broadway] All these label execs telling me get my buzz up All you want to do is try to rape me if it was up Seen n***as get less time giving they blood up Seen n***as get no time giving they plug up They don't wrap like me and I ain't talking bout no hip-hop Spent a buck on saran wrap, aluminum foil and Ziploc Eight Hours on the road no pit stop Four cylinder I made it on a full tank I went to the feds, Bump went to the feds It wasn't nobody here to pull rank I ain't f**ed up bout no paper I ain't played a muthaf**ing game since Sega n***a getting money putting Reggie in a Vega Sitting on Omegas, hollering at the Moes on Ada ‘O6 Boo Man came with the kush Fred at the white house treat him like Bush King was alive throwing money through the roof If you look under evil bet the money was the root Home of the crooks, home of the bangers I'm a muthaf**ing hustla, I'm a got damn slanger Check my paper work, I ain't no muthaf**ing sanger I know the streets well, I ain't no muthaf**ing stranger [Hook] [Verse 3: SeVen1] I'ma keep it raw like your f**ing Pa Everything I wrote, I probably did or saw Ask the law how many names I gave ‘em More AKA's than Winston-Salem They want that real sh**, look how I raised them The truth bathed them, Yeezus couldn't save them Eastside landlord stomp your feet n***a Remove your shoes these ain't your momma rules n***a Who got a story to tell, Charlie I'm all ears I got a bridge for lese so meet me at the pier Two parent household I shouldn't be cold The devil asked for my soul but it been sold n***a lie to his momma, think he real with you? Told his kids he'll be back but never came through Told the pigs those n***as selling weight too And this the hottest n***a out, n***a fu*k YOU