School Of Hard Knocks Oscar O'Neill

Verse 1:
Rap supremacy, endless pursuit
So go and assemble your troops
The New York Militia's starting the coup
She said she hates to see me leave
She feels a rush of emotion
I put my dick way down her throat
And told her: "savor the moment!"
Now put your hands up! (Hands up!)
Wave them to the sky
Keep your eyes on the prize
And always stay on your grind
I got that gold-plated heavyweight champion's belt
Competition is none, so I scrimmage myself
I'm in that Presidential Suite like I'm Obama and shit
Eating rappers alive like a piranha and shit
Feel like I need to give these niggas a reminder and shit
Because they sleeping on your nigga on recliners and shit (Hey!)
In this elevated status I'm in
I can't afford to let the ink bleed dry from the pen
I got a lack of sympathy for you motherfuckers
You're time's up
Ain’t no discussion, the victory's in my clutches

Hook:
Sim-simma, who got the keys to my beamer?
I party in The Jungle with gorillas
Pocket full of scrilla, nostrils full of coke
Lots of people talking funny, never take me for a joke
Put your hands up in the air, ‘cause we rising to the top
Iron Man status ‘cause the grinding don’t stop
This the School of Hard Knocks, nigga
School of Hard Knocks, nigga