[Verse 1 - Clavish]
In an ideal world paedophiles get birds, drug dealers don't
When niggas turn something off they don't even tell their bros
Let alone get laid up and start telling hoes
This is real rap, you know
In an ideal world the industry plants don't pop before the real niggas
Guys that don't ride, talk nice to the real drillers
Niggas that you grew up with, happy when they see you winning
But it come like they're happier when they see you spinnin'
In an ideal world I done good in school
Never started banging, when it's beef my phone ain't getting called
In maths class I didn't get it
In the trap the last thing I find hard is decimals
I sell it to the nittys
On the yard, chinger in my pocket, towel around my head
I've got too many paigons, and not enough friends
My little nigga got ideas but not enough sense
He's good at rapping but he's tryna leave somebody drenched
In an ideal world guns don't jam but if they didn't free Crash he would've caught like two bodies
I remember the days we only had like two shotties
Up the score for my hood, no one even want homage
Just pattern up my mum, if I ever do porridge
And explain why the roads made more sense than college
In an ideal world I never had to put packs in my arse for no profit
If you got it then, balls it, don't got it
In an ideal world paedophiles get birds, drug dealers don't
When niggas turn something off they don't even tell their bros
Let alone get laid up and start telling hoes
This is real rap, you know
In an ideal world the industry plants don't pop before the real niggas
Guys that don't ride, talk nice to the real drillers
Niggas that you grew up with, happy when they see you winning
But it come like they're happier when they see you spinnin'
In an ideal world I done good in school
Never started banging, when it's beef my phone ain't getting called
In maths class I didn't get it
In the trap the last thing I find hard is decimals
I sell it to the nittys
On the yard, chinger in my pocket, towel around my head
I've got too many paigons, and not enough friends
My little nigga got ideas but not enough sense
He's good at rapping but he's tryna leave somebody drenched
In an ideal world guns don't jam but if they didn't free Crash he would've caught like two bodies
I remember the days we only had like two shotties
Up the score for my hood, no one even want homage
Just pattern up my mum, if I ever do porridge
And explain why the roads made more sense than college
In an ideal world I never had to put packs in my arse for no profit
If you got it then, balls it, don't got it
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