I had a dream about me dreamin’ that I woke up I had a dream about us dreamin’ and we woke up I had a dream about us dreamin’ and we woke up The world woke up, get your work up
Yup I’m going in, this will cost you cold ten It’s been exhaustin on the journey avoidin’ the coffin Finally I’mma win But once you win could be gone with the wind No telling when so I always got an encore like Win Never been a fan to drop this shit just for the hell of it Nigga I’m the truth, I forever stay relevant Don’t keep up with the Jones’, nor the Kardashians Jim’s a scratch nigga, I give a fuck about the fashion You and Mr Charles have read the chaws of takeout Laugh at you niggas on me, give you takeout I’m nice man, I’m Tyson before the wife-o start to like him I mean my main agreement a lie, gon shoot me now some Vicodin Yo plastic wrap is not even worth recyclin’ I often dream of Alicia Keys, Cezarine Dikin
Think that you can do what I do how I do what I does But you can’t and you still wishin you could Engine no. 9, niggas jet I’m feelin’ fine Pretty swell, sick as ever, fly as hell how I get it
They probly struggling and jugglin, regurgitatin a bunch of lame shit Not me ah ah, I got the pain Bitch turn me up until you almost blow your system Hands up, hands up, see what y’all been missin’?
Nigga I’m a G like you see in masonic lodges Fuck you rapper Rogers, hold me up Benk Bunk Rogers Line for line ahead of my time I guess that makes me a premie I’ve been right, never walkin about when you see me Market type is both Bane and the dark knight My excise precise I put a slice through your wind pipe No hype, I’m really that fuckin’ ill You in shock like watchin’ MTV and plug loadin hell Rebel swell, I raise hell, I’ll start a riot Buy a bunch of bath salts and get them little kids to try it I’m ignorant, belligerent and overly too confident Congerian Jameson until I start to vomit I dry heave, I might bleed but I’m right back drinkin I know you like what the fuck is he thinkin
Think that you can do what I do how I do what I does But you can’t and you still wishin you could Engine no. 9, niggas jet I’m feelin’ fine Pretty swell, sick as ever, fly as hell how I get it
They probly struggling and jugglin, regurgitatin a bunch of lame shit Not me ah ah, I got the pain Bitch turn me up until you almost blow your system Hands up, hands up, see what y’all been missin’?
Aye Bishop why you tryna act like you’re just a smooth boy on some smooth shit? You know you a spam enchilada eatin’ pork chop sauce jerkin chicken, finger lickin’, purple drink drinkin’ motherfucker like the rest of us We ain’t even tryna hear that shit from you The next song better be hard motherfucker Oh yea, know what I mean? We got some tortillas coming at ya Dig that?