rookies of the future
And you know I grind so hard
All my friends faded away
I put my money in my cash box
Tryna see a better day
I could have played for the Blue Jays
Balling in a major way
Nice clothes, nice car
Nice clothes, nice car
And you know I grind so hard
And you know I grind so hard
Watch me switch lanes, drop top, propane
Things have got so hectic I done had invested in a Nancy Kerrigan private plane
Five flames when I pull up
It feels like the sun is blowing you a kiss from five inches away
Haters get disobeyed
Rap game, I'll slide your bitch ass down rusty razor blade
When it rains it still pours
My blue velvet velore shirt clashes with my florescent ensemble
Cut more checks then Obama
Nike sweats, sweat bands, my sweat beads on my forehead
Doberman Pinschers guard my luxury mint bed
I even trained one to a put a Versace do-rag on my forehead
And when I sleep it ain't cheap, I take a twenty minute nap
Rap game Eric Clapton in the candy caramel apple
I'ma keep the trunk clappin'
Pull up like Toucan Sam in that candy golden gram
I done hid a quarter ki
In my box of Kellogg's Raisin Bran
Riff!
Uh, drugs all in my Benz, stoned behind my lenses
Dig all up in her pocket book 'fore this bitch can come to her senses
(I am) still jumping fences
(I am) still on the benches
The Beamer got the osteoporosis, holdin' old toasters
Wait, hit the potion, slow motion
Every kind of color loafer, that's real
Spray the tec, still chefs offer the best veal
Sit out in left field next to Gary Sheffield
No you couldn't step in my banana belly
Stare at the moon because the roof is looking panoramic
Uh, I stuffed the drugs inside a dog's butt
Then kick it in the fucking stomach, I'm on tour what?