Week 24

Lyrics

[Verse] Come on Poor and hungry You probably heard this story from me Little sis on the floor no porridge for her tummy So I stuck up a store under the mask I wore Then I went back and bought some food with the stores money Poor and bummy the slums is a war-torn country Cops are pigs with horns them wild boars hunt me I'm in the street with the wolves I'm outdoors comfy Fiends paying the workers they outsource monthly Gorilla dong the city is going apeshit I start rapping 'bout rapping just to escape shit I built a stage in my room that shit was makeshift To walk five steps on that bitch I couldn't take six I mean I could've never take a break Hit the pen and pad 'till my craft was advanced as a spaceship My bed was on the floor The floorboards where weak Toss and turn in your sleep shit you wake up in the basement They cut our lights off food in the kitchen spoiled Borrowing electric from neighbors using extension cords I put a seven-figure check on my vision board Then I start working hard while I was wishing for it Haters talking that bullshit I just ignored But right about now I got time today cuz Yeah pardon the auto-tune Not Halloween but my goblins party with all the goons I can't wear skinny jeans gotta give the llama room Some of y'all been pussy since you hopped out your mama's Womb Let the drama loom Married to the Yoppa had the hopper broom The streets sweeper's a keeper I'm the choppers groom And the chopper got a zoom I could knock a follicle size of a molecule off your collar when it's Opportune I'm just serving you birds with the words in my acapella All of you birds 'cause birds of a feather flock together I'm just cooking you bird serve 'em with mozzarella Then I'ma hop in a drop Carrera that's hotter than Habanero Nobody's real no more I don't even call 'em So niggas I don't feel no more I caught 'em frauding You think they the truth? Go ahead and polygraph 'em After that don't attach them to Crooked 'cause y'all can have 'em Nah that ain't how a West Coast rider lives coast by your crib Low rider rims toast by the ribs They ask "Yo ain't so and so the goat with the flow?" First of all his ghostwriter is I've done seen some of the illest backpackers getting penned for Seen some of the realest gangsta rappers getting sinned for I don't judge 'em I just chill at the end store Signing autographs for fans that's what I'm meant for Bitch niggas on top of the game that's what messed it up We don't Harvey Weinstein hoes these chicks molesting us I'm from a era where everywhere nigga was vested up Smith and Wesson your chest and gut then your head and you Dead as fuck That's why I don't get in beef these internet killers in I might get paranoid thinking the shit is real again Psychotic thoughts I don't wanna feel again That's why I keep my darkest thoughts in mental compartments That I conceal 'em in You don't wanna see that villain introduced I rather see stars chilling in the roof of the ceiling in the coupe But I'm still real enough to lower the mic stand Kaepernick style I'm kneeling in the booth Giving them the truth