Verse 1: Mike G Chucks on the feet, hundreds on the laces You ain't sayin' nothin' 'less you talkin' big faces Same on the T, L's on my jeans Everythin' clean so I'm fly as angel wings And I got a bunch of dreams but they don't mean nothin' Bitches tryna kick it like they Vicki B's husband See we stuntin', trees he be puffin' Got nothin' on me, baby you don't need substance And I ain't in pursuit unless she's Mike Jack Bad Complex like math, smooth like jazz Never lose my swag got my back like a sponsor Iceberg cool still burn like contra Name another nigga that could take off without a launcher Fresh, and all my bombs Adams like Yolanda
Chucks on the feet, hundreds on the laces You ain't sayin' nothin' 'less you talkin' big faces Same on the T, L's on my jeans Everythin' clean so I'm fly as angel wings And I got a bunch of dreams but they don't mean nothin' Bitches tryna kick it like they Vicki B's husband See we stuntin', trees he be puffin' Got nothin' on me, baby you don't need substance And I ain't in pursuit unless she's Mike Jack Bad Complex like math, smooth like jazz Never lose my swag got my back like a sponsor Iceberg cool still burn like contra Name another nigga that could take off without a launcher Fresh, and all my bombs Adams like Yolanda
Verse 2: Probably the sickest nigga spittin' that isn't really known And they think that I'm from Houston cause I like my music slow Got a high school diploma, I'm gettin' every dollar Rough neck nigga had to fix my collar Wake up in the mornin' feelin' big like Texas Death to any nigga tryna take my breakfast No hesitation dog you shouldn't even bother Ask my father even he know I'm a king like Arthur Gave you a warnin', now you facin' hazards Shit they fiend for I call it blue magic Pure shit nigga I call it blue magic Fuck Maybach Music, this is brand new Jag shit Fuck Teddy Pain this is Teddy Pendergrass shit It's like I've never been healthy, sicker than your average Game on lock, chain on the same Screens in the whip and they goin' fall like rain Ice in that bitch, so it's cold like hail Like hell find a nigga that don't feel me like brail
Verse 3: Yeah, I'm a know-it-all, can't tell me nothin' Greedy genius I just want it all like my cousin I don't need it but I still take the cars and the girls Went from bout gettin' the money to about gettin' the world I'm a real nigga man, I ain't dealin' with the haters Only time I start writin' is when they run outta paper Even then my flow sick, so I probably won't need it Say you're makin' moves, but I probably won't see it Nigga you could rap, but you like to front See me in the 'lac, tell your bitch bring a blunt My nigga I'm back, meet me in the front Call this everythin' that's yours cause that's everythin' I want