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Put it under the needle and drop it on the one, boy Your mama say that I be rappin' in my dad voice Defense mech to protect me from the fuck toys Joysticks, see me swerve through these asteroids Life is good, V.G. plus But, yo, I still got that hunger to hold a box cutter Let me carve my name in your security blanket I'm sleepin' on a train on a sweat-stained mattress I'm not expectin' company, hit the floor If death comes for me somebody gotta get the door You might choke on a sucker from the liquor store We might get so high we don't exist no more I'm like smoke, I'm supposed to rise That's why you blow both of us towards the sky So close the blinds and lend me your time All of your enemies'll eventually die Pen game methane, Slug said to gas the shit Spit flame just to keep the matches lit They say I'm half insane, the other half immaculate, could you imagine it? Whatever, I don't like to shoot 'cause I'm just way too accurate When they be at you they don't ever at you, that's the wackest shit And ain't too many bitches that can hang or even match my wits I mean, I've had it up to here, I'm talkin' Atmosphere 'Cause I don't even talk to them, they say I'm too cavalier I'm like your greatest livin' fear when I twist the gears SongtexteGimme props, I ain't have to drop a bitch in several years I look at OGs as my only peers So let me know when you done playin' in the snow, the slopes for real skiers I'm droppin' real tears from laughin' at you weirdos Drag you lil'— by your earlobes Number one stunner, stone cold, below zero Too dope, I'ma need more than one kilo Oral Krylon, I spray all my style on Mind brighter than them orange end zone pylons Two hands from the zebra man Instant replay says the play on the field stands I pack the stands with my stanzas My stans go bananas, it's a bona fide bonanza Word to Jason Alexander Cus D'Amato of the culture, coulda cussed out Costanza Fuck Trump and fuck cancer Fans raise they hands but they ain't got the answers No performance enhancers Six rings, piss clean, I ain't takin' no chances Who else could dance with the devil? Samba with the mamba, Macarena with ya mama Fuck a double entendre Put it plain 'til I leave this plane, I'm a problem Quick witted, sharp tongue, I don't mince words Plentiful supply, use strife as my cistern Take it in stride but describe it uncensored Wadin' through the pain, love, lies and adventure Gotta ensure the time spent wisely Pops' tenure didn't outlast the Isley's Walk soft, big stick and a slight lean Kept the Nikes clean when nights got unsightly Last real hitter alive, bitch, I might be Death swarmin', head forward, kept forgin' Never fret or let 'em see me sweat when I was left for it Records reflect what I rep once it get sorted Duckin' twelve with bench warrants to gettin' bread tourin' Can you dig it way deeper than the surface shit? What the true meanin' and the purpose is? Soul's fiendin' for half the breathin' we burdened with Aus Songtexte Mania