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Yeah In pole position, had to strip it down Was rarely fucking with the vision, they was feeding me the bread Well come eleven and the water only trickle down Needed pumpernickel, wasn't fucking with the fickle minds This shit would get bumpy over time if we pickle beets They just want the hooks, got me out here fighting sickle cell Niggas sound like crooks in front of cameras, I hear crickets now Have some art commissioned more than living off the ticket sales You for the 'Gram, we weighing this shit on different scales No picket fence, I know we grew up on different streets It woke me up, I know it's way more niggas counting sheep Bouncing checks, tryna slide off the counterfeit They hella foul, niggas out here playing county ball Still bounty Saul, shame they'll never win a Golden Globe Some niggas only taking naps, some niggas comatose You get 'em fired, you find out some niggas Omaros— Yeah, Sosa been call this shit here the zoo Multiple elephants in the room, ain't nothing new Poachers done settled in, they using sedatives, too I'm still preaching the same element Exploring business ventures with my fellowship Eliminated the light bulbs with no filament You ain't in my circle if we not intimate on some level SongtexteGot dumbbells on my shoulders, I folded Drinking Folgers these days, I talk the water 'til my clothes is moldy Bodie Broadus if came down to the wire, niggas couldn't hold me They always talk the old you, them niggas never know me I never owe nobody nothing but John Who cutting onions? These days I'm all about cutting the line Cutting through the bullshit, my nigga, it's nothing to shine It's nothing to stunt, it's nothing to rhyme You elevating minds or you fucking the blind and ducking the smoke? Sup with the swine but wanna be goat, you really just sheep You wanna be woke, you really just sleep- Walked in front of me, man, what are these jokes? Rich in spirit, I won' t hear it if you cunning me, bro Tried to pass these hoes the joint, they didn't want any smoke I wanna be blunt, when I spit out the truth They want me to choke, they want me to front Ruffle feathers and they'll want me to ghost Crumble concentrates, I'm rolling for real Sand trapping, I won't shorten my stroke Aus Songtexte Mania