[Verse 1: Q-Tip]
For real though, who really got sick flow?
On the edge, not the ledge hangin' out of the window
Bird chest niggas with ya wind of this fear rap
Fuck around you'll be minced meat inside of a meal sack
Puny little punks better hit the gym
But that doesn't mean nothin' to the heart within
You cramped up, you and your team, I'm amped up
And you asses can't dim my beam
My shine what the fuck is on your mind?
Little weakling rappers better hit the grind
Other brothers ain't motivated, they can't do it
Not only did I penetrate it, I ran through it
My music comes on and we mosh at the dance
Inside of your mind or you're inside of my pants
Musical intentions that we have is vast
You sick? Drink a NyQuil, well, I'm bed on your ass
Oh well then here comes the gelatin
Tip's on some shit is what you yap on your cell to friends
Now your party is completely blown
Real name is Kamaal, I'm in "complete me" zone
It's rap time, for you, that means nap time
Reachin for my joint? What the fuck, I'mma clap mine
Singin songs of sixpence, you sit tensed
Surprised your ass at the end like The Sixth Sense
Heavy hitters knocking shit out the park
You didn't even really play, tell me why did you start
Spittin' sharp blades laced with bleach
You wanna play around, kid? I'm not a walk at the beach
A stroll in the park or your fuckin' playground
Put on your headphones, tell me how grenades sound
Put on your walk face and go underneath the town
Q-Tip, Abstractm how I gets down
For real though, who really got sick flow?
On the edge, not the ledge hangin' out of the window
Bird chest niggas with ya wind of this fear rap
Fuck around you'll be minced meat inside of a meal sack
Puny little punks better hit the gym
But that doesn't mean nothin' to the heart within
You cramped up, you and your team, I'm amped up
And you asses can't dim my beam
My shine what the fuck is on your mind?
Little weakling rappers better hit the grind
Other brothers ain't motivated, they can't do it
Not only did I penetrate it, I ran through it
My music comes on and we mosh at the dance
Inside of your mind or you're inside of my pants
Musical intentions that we have is vast
You sick? Drink a NyQuil, well, I'm bed on your ass
Oh well then here comes the gelatin
Tip's on some shit is what you yap on your cell to friends
Now your party is completely blown
Real name is Kamaal, I'm in "complete me" zone
It's rap time, for you, that means nap time
Reachin for my joint? What the fuck, I'mma clap mine
Singin songs of sixpence, you sit tensed
Surprised your ass at the end like The Sixth Sense
Heavy hitters knocking shit out the park
You didn't even really play, tell me why did you start
Spittin' sharp blades laced with bleach
You wanna play around, kid? I'm not a walk at the beach
A stroll in the park or your fuckin' playground
Put on your headphones, tell me how grenades sound
Put on your walk face and go underneath the town
Q-Tip, Abstractm how I gets down
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