Lyrics

[Intro: Guilty Simpson] Guilty Simpson My nigga Med J Dilla! Raw shit [Verse 1: Guilty Simpson] Prolific, flow like blow, sniff it And get zooted, banging that dope music My mind is set – this year, niggas better step it up I get the job done way before the check is cut I don't write raps for free (Fuck that) If I did, I won't make it like Shaq from three My motto is simple: "Without that loot, your instrumentals stay instrumentals" A blind man could see the kid's potential And take notice, so I grind and stay focused If I was any hotter, I'd drink straight vodka, spit out flames, and piss lava That hot, fam, try again That's why I got hoes like firemen You could plug 'em up to hydrants I should push a big red truck with sirens Got a flow that'll stop beginners I maul y'all like a shopping center Every time I yell, I say "J Detroit I to the L-L-A" [Hook: Guilty Simpson & MED] J Detroit I to the L-L-A J Detroit I to the L-L-A J Detroit I to the L-L-A J Detroit I to the L-L-A [Bridge: Guilty Simpson & MED] With that raw shit Turn it up loud in your car shit Finger tips split that cigar shit Let's smoke, nigga! Holla at your mans, I'll blow with ya That raw shit Turn it up loud in your car shit Finger tips split that cigar shit Let's smoke, nigga! Holla at your mans, I'll blow with ya [Hook: Guilty Simpson & MED] J Detroit I to the L-L-A J Detroit I to the L-L-A J Detroit I to the L-L-A J Detroit I to the L-L-A [Verse 2: M.E.D.] I bang nothing but that raw shit Neighbors bang on the wall, pissed from the noise and the blunt scent With a chick, getting blown like a trumpet They're wondering how I stand still and still run this Full stomach, hunger in the eyes, greedy In your speezy, takin' shit like "Nigga, you don't need these" Titles and mics, homie, you don't need these My CD's tight like six niggas in a Sea Breeze I flow so sick and won't sneeze My set holds traps, with no cheese Wrap G's, rubberband, one hand, I'll part your gold teeth J Dilla, my nigga, I call him O.G The street symphony, epitome The underdogs who grind hard for the victory Get them weak rhymes outta my face I clap 16 bars that might catch me a case I'm back, don't stop 'til my lungs collapse 'Til then close your eyes, nigga, imagine that