half time
These some intimate thoughts
In a Porsche, sipping Cris' through a straw
You on the board, trying to get through a shore
I was bored, trying to get me a broad, not a bitch or a whore
You talking rank, tryna' settle the score
Diamond to dog, living like the kind in the air
Peace to my earth, I swear that she the mom of the year
Peace on my turf, ducking all the models in here
Beating the dirt, success is like kilometers near
Stuck at my worst, karma talking dead in my ears
I'm writing this verse, same time I met with my fears
Quarter-century but way way ahead of my years
I been gone since Daquan seen him dead at the stairs
Stay strapped though, never lack though, watch your back though
Word to Fat Joe, we let them ninety-nine clap mo'
This the city called the rotten apple
Now you know if you didn't know, nigga better pop a Snapple
Sitting in a room like why the room is spinning like the bitch in Exorcist head is?
My mind is always on lettuce
Paper chase, shrooms laced, heard the road is infinite
No chain, no pendant
No Range, no Bentley
My rhymes be shitting on lives of rappers you into
It ain't ironic I use a number-two pencil
Better pay homage if ever we bump into
Shotty pump hit you, mama grab the tissue
Extra magazine, licking niggas wasn't a issue
Saint Laurent leather, I'm like Fonz with a pistol
In broad day, I'll address any issue
And undress any damsel in distress, if she into dead niggas
And I ain't talking about the presidents or the evil residents
Never see the Benz again
All four quarters, it's onslaught, pure slaughter
All aboard bitch cause' it's all water
The Messiah and the Maestro
Pen prolific and now I'm twisted off nice 'dro
Thoughts gifted, I'm non-existent tonight, ho
I hit her once, slide shawty like the iPhone
So I shine regal for the people in Paraná
One kiss for my girl, two kiss for my mama
Parted from my pain, won't dissipate
This is missions on minimum wage
Until I'm dug up out the grave, reincarnated
Po' her ass on the glass, off the Bombay
I get around 2Pac, just like the song say
Flow frame of though, fuck your loss this is Fonzie
The Columbine of the Comic-Con
I'm blowing up for the common kind
I told you pigs I ate finer-swine, I got my own shit
Why you riding mine, huh? And we close at Ramadan
And you not a soldier, need a shoulder you can cry upon
 (x2)
Run from the Ops, duck shots and maintain
Timbs butterscotch, Balmain at ballgames
I ain't ever flopped, my name hall of fame
Drunk driving, swerve lanes, tonight we get (high)
Learn from the block, we plot to get payed
YSL denim, J's that's all suede
Never ever flop, my name hall of fame
Drunk driving, swerve lanes, tonight we get (high)