Sounds By C.O.O.P. - POV lyrics

[Verse 1] Welcome to the reign, sh** finna get real f** your favorite rapper, observe that I'm ill Nah, that was rude allow me to retract f** that sh**, as a matter of fact Young Chicago n***a with a New York flow With a down south flow, with a west coast flow Blowing these O's into the ozone I'll never break like a old Nextel phone Getting it cracking, Saddam Hussein neck With a super thick chick with no gag reflex f**ing the game on cam, POV s** Giving n***as the blues, shoutout to Hillcrest St. Lawrence all the way to MCHS Since 1993, I've had this S on my chest Walk in the studio with a Mac, Tec, and a vest Cold as the peak of motherf**in Mount Everest Apologies Momma, I'm finna go off Cause I'm sick and tired of hearing them talk They ain't got not team, yet they claim they the boss Most of these n***as virgin p**y soft Catch a n***a robbing flows you know I got the bat man If they get to frontin, then I hit em with the backhand Chiraq sh** rolling authentic afghan Catch me in the air like Rob Van Dam If I got any sicker, I'd have my own disease If I got any hotter, I'd have my own degrees If I spit a little game, then she gone be on the D So if she don't say N O , then you know I got the P I'm just chilling in the studio, conducting this manslaughter Feeling like "The Drought 3" Dwayne Carter lets get it started [Pre Verse] Catch a n***a robbing flows you know I got the bat man If they get to frontin', then I hit em with the backhand Chiraq sh** rolling authentic afghan Catch me in the air like Rob Van Dam [Verse 2] I remember motherf**ers used to really ignore me Little sh** they whipped up really bored me At a young age knew f** sh** wasn't for me So I copped a notepad in wishes of recording I realized I'm good, matter fact fantastic So I could son the game and clarify to these ba*tards They can't touch me, or see me but they forced to listen To a n***a out they league not even they division Lacking a story of whipping up crack up in the kitchen But give any motherf**er that want it the business Bout to smash the game on my missionary Admire my logic n***a, I'm a visionary While I'm getting stoned like a cemetery Spitting sh** colder than Antarctica's Ben and Jerry's My flow? That sh** ridiculous Lil ol' Albert who could envision it Wooh That n***a spit crack The top I gotta get that f** 12 tell em get back Chi-town sh** n***a don't lack About to cause a collision Murk sh** with precision Oozing with the ambition Definition of a musician You slave to rhyme book And ain't no abolition Did you stupid n***as get it? Lacing up my kicks to run this sh** Y'all running too, but behind me and still tripping I'm more like Lebron plus Kobe plus KD Majority of y'all n***as barely Scottie Pippen