Bueller Mr. Skip (Ft. Tha God Fahim)

[Verse 1: Mr. Skip]
I make my dividends on the low
As I smash and then dash, you just a joke
Just like Joe Piscopo: a comedian
I get loose in every scene I'm in; I can recommend
As you see, I usually win
With the peezy hair, I get grizzly like a bear
I'm the main attraction like Brad Pitt with no actin'
You just a fraction of a half and that ain't mathin'
A prophecy I do believe is [?]
You just a worker and your bitch is a twerker
You all up on social media, bein' a lurker
Observe the proposition at hand
I stand six-two
Your girl said I'm tall as she blew
I mean, like, who knew I'd be wherе I am in my prime? But I did
I justify my timin' as I shine
I drop gems and classics likе Bueller
No sympathy for my past life
My now gets cooler

[Verse 2: Tha God Fahim]
Uh
It's now or never; energy's not unlimited
Don't spread yourself too thin; I'll paint some images
Turn it into currency, dividends and percentages
Nothin' but high-end luxury in my sentences
Swift kills
Doin' damage and big deals; handlin' steel
Just watch your back, 'cause shit's real
I'm highly rated with the pencil
Breeze by you like windchill
I consolidate the big bills
Since a early age, the greatness in me was instilled
I'm on the grind, I can't sit still
Don't spill the beans, keep it to yourself
I'm movin' low-profile, I gotta move in stealth
I can show you what the top levels is
I can recommend you just show me where the cheddar is
I don't just write down words, this is medicine
Don't leave the door cracked, might just let the devil in
Obtain plaques in stacks, uh—a nigga levelin'
Keep gats and MACs in case of rebellin'
Gotta stand on your square, no backpedalin'
Dump Gawd, he be fly as a pelican
I'll get you finished by my special move
I'm treatin' microphones like dinner food