Alphabet Soup

Lyrics

[Intro] One from the top You know what it is Promotin' that Heineken drink, haha Th-The-The Evil Genius Yeah Green Lantern Yeah, you know what it is already South Queens, muh'fuckers It's Aasim, muh'fuckers It's The Dream, muh'fuckers [Verse 1] Uh, listen, monster menace, you morons should move on The almighty, the grimy-gritty has moved on Fools perform, you flim-flam fugazi Forced a fella and feel the force from the fever I cook it high Fahrenheit, you afraid of flavor My whole foundation foresees you as a faker You ain't, familiar with the feedback of yo' weak raps I tear through ya fabric with a pitchfork, piss off My faction all about them fractions You frantic, on somе faggot shit, fraudulent embarrassment Fivе out of five rappers feel like they Holdin' matches up to the fire my pen writes For charge we, eyes ain't got body Flamboyant I flame-broil and fire fuckers chartin' me But on the flipside, I'm plain and simple With a mind frame similar to fleece in the winter I seem as tenfold, the lyrical nympho With physical info, the shit I done been through On instrumentals with heaven sent flows Bent as a motherfuckin' Heineken centerfolds [Chorus] One for the money, two for the bass This is for them dudes locked way up state One for the money, two for the bass This is for my dudes fucked up and outta place One for the money, two for the bass This is for them dudes locked way up state One for the money, two for the bass This is for my dudes fucked up and outta place [Verse 2] Wave the flag, I tear shit down to a frag Meant to be found in the sewers with truants and trash Every movement is formula fittin' a king Yet I'm the principal with students the rule boy is South Queens you know that I'm about teams Frustrated 'bout a lot, but I'll fight about things Fix the game, returnin' back them rope chains and four fingers A raw figure four, man, four horseman format All that and then some, fair-skinned and handsome Fair ones I shoot some, females I shoot some Back to facilities where the faculties fuck some Feeble on feet Fred and friends had enough from The drunk of a dock concealers, eyes fresh out of the tailor Sean John and eh, eh, it's on February 4th Friday load up the guns Bust one in the air, let 'em know where you from [Chorus] Check it, one for the money, two for the bass This is for them dudes locked way up state One for the money, two for the bass This is for my dudes fucked up and outta place One for the money, two for the bass This is for them dudes locked way up state One for the money, two for the bass