Tired of these rappers Tired of these jackers I'm tired of these dances by these fucking back-packers And I'm sick of all these hipsters I'm sick of phony niggas I'm sticking to these bitches, cause I'm sick of all these sisters I'm sick and tired of tryna survive I'm sick and tired of my environment Sick and tired of feeling deprived and one of kind, when am I climbin? Sick and tired of your facade and all of your lying and your diamonds Basically I'm tired, of feeling sick and tired ASAP, born in money making Manhattan Every nigga on my block wanna be a Main Attrakion Shout out my nigga Squadda, Shout out my nigga Mondre If you disrespect them niggas then I'm polishing the nondre And I'm coming to your casa for your madre and your padre Comprende? Most of these niggas been gay or they strangé They say I sound like Andre mixed with Kanye Little bit of Max, a little bit of Wiz A little bit of that and a little bit of this Get off my dick
[Hook]
I'm in yo hood You ain't got no ticket I'm a down to earth nigga, we could kick it Take a hit with me. Take a hit with me Ain't on stage behind the scenes I'm probably mixing lean Chilling with my niggas with my team Won't you come and take a sip with me? Take a sip with me
[Verse 2: Squadda B]
(Ay, Ay, Ay) Once again, Mr. back selling crack It's an honor keeping real nigga music on the map Street rap's new face sampling with no crates Doubting myself cause I don't think the world can relate To my surprise everyone does, so have faith Half of the other side don't live it, they push play The young illest alive, Harlem world to the Bay It feels good waking up to money in the bank Cause last year it was shoebox and lint I only write raps just to give you niggas hints Every verse a gift as you smoke like a chimney My album coming November, that's \"20 Years of Memory\" And that's assuming I'mma live that long If I don't, don't cry cause I ain't lived that wrong Just an artist in the purest form I live that song An artist in the purest form I live that song Bambino
[Hook]
[Verse 3: MondreM.A.N.]
(Ok, Ok, Look)
Why fuss? I'd rather fuck Treat her like my enemy, I just wanna bust Seven-deuce, waiting on the bus Before them boys bending corners tryna make a bus Tryouts, I'm tryna make the Bucks Purple in that green got me on stuck So I two-step, move my feet and keep it pushin' Always bouncing back, gotta keep the kush in And that's something fat, like eating all the pudding ASAP, we gotta slap, bruh, good lookin' But fuck that ASAP where I come from 456, ice city slums Weed in my pocket, coke in his Tums(?) Buying swisher sweets no more hunny buns Fresh white tee, bright like the sun Only nigga round here rocking Mishka