[Verse One: Laws]
Yo, I got rap on its back in a missionary
I'm erasin' the word swag from the dictionary
You say they wannna give me a Grammy? Oh goody
Just let me grab my black sweatpants and Champion hoodie
And it's on, I'm sorry you a bummer, I don't run a liquor store But I feel sorry for your mother 'cause her son is such a fuck up He follow when he should be leadin'
Me without a brain is the only way this could be even
Yeah your boy is back
And I'm all about business like your boy in black
I get hyper than a show with your boys in back
I got ups like Luigi when his coins are stacked
A hundred to be precise they wanna make me starve
And then they wanna feed me advice?
Well fuck it, I'll beat 'em twice
I got a black suit you can try on son
But what I don't got is a shoulder you can cry on son
So what you cryin' for?
[Hook: Laws]
I ain't give it to 'em yet
I been holdin' back, what I give 'em is the best
What you think they gonna do? Think they gon' play dead?
What you say you gonna do? I'mma hit 'em in the head
[Verse Two: Joe Budden]
Joe partner, go harder
Here's some advice, work on your flow for starters
Chill, don't bother to ask me for help
Got you pussies on lock, no chastity belt
I'm after the wealth, tryna to have the world in my palm
Tryna to reach the top of the world and beyond
Bread crumbs for the birds, that's the trail that they on
You can meet me at the suite of the 'tel in a thong
School of hard knocks, whack rappers droppin' out
Weak metaphors, punches don't knock 'em out
From now on, bad bars ain't rockin' out
No space for 'em under the board to box 'em out
Let's begin, they respect is thin
Don't care if you rich, can't afford to neglect the pen
Steppin' to them's an expected win
When I slam, you can notify the next of kin, Joey
Yo, I got rap on its back in a missionary
I'm erasin' the word swag from the dictionary
You say they wannna give me a Grammy? Oh goody
Just let me grab my black sweatpants and Champion hoodie
And it's on, I'm sorry you a bummer, I don't run a liquor store But I feel sorry for your mother 'cause her son is such a fuck up He follow when he should be leadin'
Me without a brain is the only way this could be even
Yeah your boy is back
And I'm all about business like your boy in black
I get hyper than a show with your boys in back
I got ups like Luigi when his coins are stacked
A hundred to be precise they wanna make me starve
And then they wanna feed me advice?
Well fuck it, I'll beat 'em twice
I got a black suit you can try on son
But what I don't got is a shoulder you can cry on son
So what you cryin' for?
[Hook: Laws]
I ain't give it to 'em yet
I been holdin' back, what I give 'em is the best
What you think they gonna do? Think they gon' play dead?
What you say you gonna do? I'mma hit 'em in the head
[Verse Two: Joe Budden]
Joe partner, go harder
Here's some advice, work on your flow for starters
Chill, don't bother to ask me for help
Got you pussies on lock, no chastity belt
I'm after the wealth, tryna to have the world in my palm
Tryna to reach the top of the world and beyond
Bread crumbs for the birds, that's the trail that they on
You can meet me at the suite of the 'tel in a thong
School of hard knocks, whack rappers droppin' out
Weak metaphors, punches don't knock 'em out
From now on, bad bars ain't rockin' out
No space for 'em under the board to box 'em out
Let's begin, they respect is thin
Don't care if you rich, can't afford to neglect the pen
Steppin' to them's an expected win
When I slam, you can notify the next of kin, Joey
Comments (0)
The minimum comment length is 50 characters.
Information
Users of Guests are not allowed to comment this publication.
There are no comments yet. You can be the first!