[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)