Clap Sh*t Up

Lyrics

Torae Clap Sh*t Up (ft. Phonte) (Torae) Want to hear my old sh*t buy my old albums If you really love it why I only sold thousands? By the grace of God I made it out of housing But I'm still Coney isle styling Wild as a stallion and cocky, had to go Rambo to get my wrist rocky Cheddar drenched broccoli That's what's on my pallet in my rally Wardrobe was war mode, now I got a stylist Now you want to smile miss? Miss me On the hardwood where the Knicks be flickered up Melo drop 60 Shifty low down gritty and I'm just doing this till my city is the sh*t again Dropped barrel brothers it was notable Make you a believer my verse ain't get a quotable so f*ck it I'm over you No f*ck it I'm ovеr due none of y'all bettеr Bar for bar, line for line, to the letter I came from EBT made it on to BET F.U.S.E. , MTV, MP3 Vinyl and CD all off the P.E.N Now it's 6 days on SXM And I'm just getting started, you could hit the target Or fill out applications for Target You on one I'm off it probably want to forfeit How you supposed to score vs Tor and now its raw sh*t Aw sh*t I'm still beasting the bars, flow shit Malik and Jamal Still bodying every beat that I'm on Any street that I'm on, I'm a sight still Shine like a million-dollar light bill Even Bun B know I'm type trill, type ill, might steal your missis Treat it like a 4-course meal and do the dishes Scratch off my wish list, add to my f*ck it list Name an MC that can f*ck with this Probably had to add to your bucket list, bucket this, blam That's the only way you could body me fam Pardon me, damn I gotta go Brought in Tigallo to clap the sh*t up some more (Phonte) Me and my man's on an award tour But the crowd screaming for more Tor And Tigallo on the assist, he's the orator You can count on just like a scoreboard But what the f*ck you keeping score for when the L is imminent Scrimmaging against you feminine niggas in boy shorts Kitten heel raps scratching up the floor boards In a top hat you rap niggas is Boy George I attack tracks with more force And more anger than a gangster in a Russian divorce court Mad cause his wife is going after his stored Porsche So she can make some more borscht Then he really want to call her a bi... but if he calls her a bi… The judge gon tell him that he's a poor sport Respect my mind, I testify But on a track Your favorite rapper will get left behind Like he got an F in a core course Not her to lollygag, I specialize in body bags And if we in the streets mother*ck an autograph The only signature that I need is 4-4 So I can run amuck, I Just lay low in the buck-eye Don't really claim to be a tough guy but never been the shook type Last name "Look like", First name "F*ck I" Raised in the Marly Marl era so you better call Saul And tell Saul to call pallbearers Just a little Tigallo will make it all better So f*ck the radio stations and all the call letters Cause my rhyme commodities go off like IED's Lines go over your head and stay there like the sword of Damocles Peace to Skyzoo, Odyssey And plus the old school, the Hercs, the Bams, and the Toddy Tees When I become a legend just acknowledge me fam Pardon me, damn I gotta go Yall clap sh*t up, I give it a standing O