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We met each other on a magazine cover It's like God told us we had to be brothers in this rap music Never fuckin' with beat makers, just the (Heatmakerz) We makin' (Crack music) All hail the king, I'm back This time around I'm coming to get it all Bigger in the hood than Fentanyl Yeah, I'm killin' y'all Porsche with the ceilin' off Pink blacker than the skin of Senegal I'm night crawling like Jake Gyllenhaal All independent though, but you can't tell by the way I'm spendin' though Out here talkin' slick as the kitchen floor Y'all rock aluminum cans, your jewelry's Michelob Mine got 'em green with envy, these niggas Piccolo Pick a flow I smack a rapper with a lyric that'll hit 'em harder than that nigga Riddick Bowe, then go, go and let critics know Crooked came up on food stamps, he knew he'd be a champ Now the Louis V is stamped on my boot clamp Bitches know, they wave when I smash past Try to flag me down like the Star-Spangle at half-mast My money was young, I didn't have cash Now I'm like the comedian headlining: I knew I'd get the last laugh Really though I've been way too humble for way too long SongtexteAnd I think it's time you know what it takes me to sing these songs Sometimes I just wanna take my ball and go home 'Cause if I want it bad enough I might have to go alone Really though Yeah, brother, been a ride since that cover From the hood to seeing the whole world with one another With two other motherfuckers among us: the four sluggers To this day we break the internet, we talk to each other Maybe one day we'll reunite at Coachella 'Til then it's just me and my dawg, ho yella Joell is just a fresh pawn teller from the 'jects with dope sellers War vests and chrome metal would ejecto whole melons Was a mess in front of the buildin' I'm mindin' my business, bumpin' that Audio Two Sippin' my Yoo-hoo milk, I was chillin' Buffalo hat top billin', man, give me credit I survived in a era where Starter would get you ended It was cool to get love but still move with your snub 'Cause that 8-ball'll have you playin' pool full of blood Fast forward, just bought a billiard room in a club Chalk it up to how I still be in these booze with the drugs The Yaowa Like the most potent, sour, diesel flower, crushed with the cocoa leaf Man, that's a high-powered powder Like how the fuck can the sound of me have you both down and up together like the staircase I came outta? I amounted to more than any coward fingers could count up I got bullets for haters and a trigger for doubters Two Sig Sauers become a headache They'll leave you right over the counter near all the sunflower seeds, Sour Powers, and Now and Laters Now the neighbors wave, they see me come down the block I 'member my shop teacher telling me stop with the beatbox, lunch table hip hop; I'm a flop; he failed me 20 years later, look who's settin' up shop Really though I've been way too humble for way too long And I think it's time you know what it takes me to sing these songs Sometimes I just wanna take my ball and go home 'Cause if I want it bad enough I might have to go alone Really though Aus Songtexte Mania