[Round 1: Swervoo]
I said…is Swerv’ done rappin’, or URL got him shelved?
That’s what y’all was guessin’
It ain’t nothin’ but erratic energy to send y’all a message
It ain’t about bars
Y’all like shit that’s right under y’all nose, and that’s the only reason y’all accept him
Nigga, grab a weapon
‘Cause your death, I’m finna book it
Where I’m from, ain’t no attachments on the gun
It’s standard button, and you just push it
It’s the 7.62s, so as far as the piece, in the DMV
It don’t matter if it’s old, Franchise…it’s the Bullets!
I’mma pull it!
If y’all brave, tell Smack, “Take full cover” (?), then I’ll stay
Wit’ one 12, ‘bout to catch a rapper in Florida, it’s Rod Wave
Muzzle the gun, I came to let the chrome off where y’all stay
With a silencer, and this bitch tone soft as Sade
AK, it get to hackin’ at limbs in broad day!
Now the athlete fucked up on one leg
He done ruined a parlay!
Let y’all play, we gon’ drive down your one-way
You try to box instead? We gon’ lift SIGs
This mothafuckin’ car might not be reversible, but the clip is
You gon’ get his, we gon’ kill the nigga
Shattered organs, I’m talkin’ nothin’ but ribs and liver
Leave the soccer player body on your doorstep
I know it was unexpected, but here’s the kicker!
I don’t fear the nigga, we endure pressure
Since a youngin, we had toy guns way before seven
Losin’ loved ones growin’ up
To see another day, only if the Lord let ‘em
Brought more TECs in
I sold ghost guns, but didn’t feel bad, ‘cause once you buy it, it’s your weapon
I just needed to get paid, then the machine made (maid): it’s George Jetson
I learned more lessons
Selling stolen shoes for rock, leavin’ ‘em folded and planted
Way before Illuminati, niggas was gettin’ they soles (souls) took for granite (granted)
I mean this
I was a robber, you played soccer, so peep this
If it was any foul play in the field, both our rewards was free kicks!
And I mean this!
All of it’s mistaken!
I’m ‘bout to leave all these whores in the basement
Extra 20 in the clip, and boy, I’mma blaze it
Leave the athlete on front of the pro mag’: it’s Sports Illustrated
I get to bombin’!
After you, it’s the rest of yo’ crew, I’m finna harm ‘em
I’m a sick nigga
See nothin’ but food in Every Fuckin’ Bar, it’s Jeffrey Dahmer
Grab the arm, and then I crash
I’m talkin’, bullets hit the glass
I’mma need the best lawyer in the world, ‘cause Every Fuckin’ Bar passed!
See Danny Myers, I’mma spaz!
Rum tried to get away ‘cause he dashed
Now it’s Men in Black
I walk up on you like, “Ay-ay, you seen the Alien?”
FLASH!
That’s for my past!
But you see, bro, we came from the bottom not seein’ hope
My grandfather tellin’ me he put me in his will, the last time that he spoke
In the house it was weed smoke
Only had one game system, couldn’t even cope
My Nintendo stopped workin’ is when I realized that we (Wii) broke
And it’s Murrland
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