Yeah
Alc’, HB
West Coast
Yeah
Eyes closed and my heart open
Just to get this off my chest, it left my heart broken
Seein’ how goofies will move for the green
Sayin’ we on the same team, but, what do that mean?
Why build a bridge just to watch niggas set it ablaze?
Don’t get me heated, ain’t no way to control the inferno
Feel the spirit of Prodigy, I’ve been keepin’ it thorough
I’d rather do it by my lonely than fake with the pack
And if you can’t stay down, then stay where you at
I feel like we the new standard
I’m goin’ over the matters from information I gathered
I’m findin’ the answers, I’ve been readin’ over the chapters
They doctorin’ up the numbers, forgin’ all of they data
My godly values speak at high volumes
Without ever havin’ to be the loudest in the room
I move like a commander in the military
You ain’t even qualified, get past the preliminaries
Separate award winners (True) from award presenters (Uh)
I seen some evil done, I’m still shakin’ off the jitters
I’m comin’ with the thunder, yeah, I’m goin’ Thor with the hammer
Was countin’ six, seven, eights before I lived in Atlanta
It’s my heart that make me different, this link is apocalyptic
Me and Alc’ movin’ purer than niggas in our division
I’m tired of actin’ like this shit ain’t watered down for real
Fuckin’ nine-to-fiver, you can’t relate to this type of feel, nah
Gave you boys a break, now y’all gotta deal with me
I tried to give ’em the game, they ain’t keep it real with me
I had homies that was supposed to come up and get rich with me
Had some shorties that was supposed to stay down and have kids with me
Long story, it’s a lot
Now my circle’s so small that it’s closer to a dot
They thought I was reppin’ Grape Street
I’m turnin’ up the watts while I’m beatin’ up the pots, yeah
Right now I’m speakin’ with my chest out
Smoke to prevent from gettin’ stressed out
The Lamborghini got the breast out (Nasty bitch)
I’m workin’ with a different type of textile
Everything’s simple, Janet, and a protect-al (If you know you know)
I’m not a vegan, I’m a reptile
My appetite for destruction is very triflin’, no cipherin’ (Don’t do that)
Don’t go to clubs if I can’t sneak a rifle in (Uh)
Got paper in circulation, we keep it cyclin’ (Spinnin’)
We don’t do collaboration, it’s a business merger
Cut a pie, split a burger, and make it stretch like a fitness worker
I’m on my shit for certain
On stage checkin’ the mic behind a custom Dr. Romanelli curtain (One-two, one-two)
I’ll give you extra cuts like a deluxe version
Couple stripes when I’m finished, you’ll need a cut surgeon
Hit’s drummin’ got the truck swervin’
Meetings with a tucked shirt in, you can never put enough work in (Nope)
I put a couple hundred K hours in, days without showerin’
No vase to put a flower in (Nope)
No paper to put the sour in
Still no way l’ma throw the towel in
Me and HB standin’ 5’7″ and still lookin’ down on bums and towerin’
You never heard it like this
Back to back, beat for beat, ayy, bring it back
I gave you boys a break, now y’all gotta deal with me
I tried to give ’em the game, they ain’t keep it real with me
I had homies all supposed to come up and get rich with me
Had some shorties all supposed to stay down and have kids with me
Long story, it’s a lot
Now my circle so small that it’s closer to a dot
They thought I was reppin’ Grape Street
I’m turnin’ up the watts, nigga, beatin’ up the pots, yeah
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