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作曲 : Crimeapple ./Roc Marci
Uh, felt bad, I did
I felt bad, I felt bad
Trappin' keys like a trapeze, minus the need for the balance beam
Still got to that fetty without the trap queen
No ads, I'll give your team half the magazine
Please, somebody call the fashion police
Clapped up your rental, shattered the window, broken glass in the street
It's a tragedy, his better half was in the passenger seat
My shooter got so many bodies, prob'ly [?]
Hammer a thottie, ****ed everybody, more bodies than Sammy and Gotti
But first, every hommy gotta be ran by me
For every dime served in lobby, murder and robbery
The streets was wild back then, even T-Boz had a MAC-10
Never know who bangin', it'll be a rude awakening
When you naked tryna locate where your bracelet is
My Jamaican b***h pass it to me like Jason Kidd
Babycakes, that's a great assist
I just had to lay it in
Lay it in for the win, maybe even bang it and break the rim
Went crazy in the gym
I told them niggas, "Get down and lay down" like JBM
Hopped in the grey BM'
Don't throw the baby out with the piss
It is what it is, when you MC light, then your paper thin
Thin like a vape pen, slim as a inmate's chance to escape the pen
The triggers on the hammers is hairpin
Yeah, pimp; my Atlanta b***h suck the air out a blimp
That's the cherry on a banana split
When Marcberg dropped, I couldn't afford a modem
Was disconnected at the moment
When I heard Reloaded, cheddar had started flowin'
Got some Os of petroleum on the elbow, the scale broke
Almost got derailed when twelve felt close; I couldn't fail, though
Then hell froze over, I flexed; I might neglect the Rover
Pull up slower in somethin' white interior, the next deSouza
Met the quota, I laid vocals that's compressed with coca
That's the focus; I could write a poem and finesse the POTUS
Check the motives; for a check, I don't respect the motions
Had to shake my ex, now the organs in her chest is broken
Grew up on Goya, now it's often oysters I'm enjoyin'
Sure, I'm a goyim, but the lawyer I'm employin' readin' the Torah
My silhouette and aura caught her, bet it wet her [?] up
Shorty wanna link with some E that's blue, that's Internet Explorer
Hallelujah, gotta thank every connoisseur, I been through it
Got it out the sewer, had to treat a booth like it was a tiny school bus
Provocateur, pockets filled; all the twat velour
Poppin' off, I'll stomp you wearin' silk like Tupac Shakur
Sample
When—you're a writer, too, you've written some great songs.
When you write, what comes first, since you're a musician also,
a great trumpet player? Does the music come first or the words?
No, I, ah... I usually put the music together. I put the music together, then the words come
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