Yeah
In pole position, had to strip it down
Was rarely fucking with the vision, they was feeding me the bread
Would come unleavened and the water only trickle down
Needed pumpernickel, wasn't fucking with the fickle minds
This shit would get bumpy over time if we pickle beets
They just want the hooks, got me out here fighting sickle cell
Niggas sound like crooks in front of cameras, I hear crickets now
Have some art commissioned more than living off the ticket sales
You for the 'Gram, we weighing this shit on different scales
No picket fence, I know we grew up on different streets
It woke me up, I know it's way more niggas counting sheep
Bouncing checks, tryna slide off the counterfeit
They hella foul, niggas out here playing county ball
Still bounty Saul, shame they'll never win a Golden Globe
Some niggas only taking naps, some niggas comatose
You get 'em fired, you find out some niggas Omaros—
Yeah, Sosa been call this shit here the zoo
Multiple elephants in the room, ain't nothing new
Poachers done settled in, they using sedatives, too
I'm still preaching the same element
Exploring business ventures with my fellowship
Eliminated the light bulbs with no filament
You ain't in my circle if we not intimate on some level
Got dumbbells on my shoulders, I folded
Drinking Folgers these days, I talk the water 'til my clothes is moldy
Bodie Broadus if came down to the wire, niggas couldn't hold me
They always talk the old you, them niggas never know me
I never owe nobody nothing but John
Who cutting onions? These days I'm all about cutting the line
Cutting through the bullshit, my nigga, it's nothing to shine
It's nothing to stunt, it's nothing to rhyme
You elevating minds or you fucking the blind and ducking the smoke?
Sup with the swine but wanna be goat, you really just sheep
You wanna be woke, you really just sleep-
Walked in front of me, man, what are these jokes?
Rich in spirit, I won' t hear it if you cunning me, bro
Tried to pass these hoes the joint, they didn't want any smoke
I wanna be blunt, when I spit out the truth
They want me to choke, they want me to front
Ruffle feathers and they'll want me to ghost
Crumble concentrates, I'm rolling for real
Sand trapping, I won't shorten my stroke
Paroles2Chansons dispose d’un accord de licence de paroles de chansons avec la Société des Editeurs et Auteurs de Musique (SEAM)
