[Intro: J. Arrr]
I ain't gon' play with you
[Verse 1: J. Arrr]
Yeah, made this dope but it wasn't china white, I'm kind of nice
It's kind of like Jackson, Jordan, Tyson when I find a mic
I bake my own pie, you still tryna find a slice
Sold your soul for an easy break, that's Elijah Price
Line of sight through these niggas who missed the Glass reference
Whole life I trained to be clutch, won't fear my last seconds
Past lessons taught me how to get my bags healthy
And I never had to blow like the brass section
I just knew I would win as a hood kid
But growing up in the projects was like them hood films
Just more gory, I know some stories that shook limbs
But this is why I'm hot, it's like I booked Mims
A good kid in this mad city that's mad gritty
Ask the locals, they'll probably tell you it's mad litty
My bars be God level, they blasphemy
With the punches, this kid blackin', Jack Dempsey
Them stats empty, y'all disappear when it matters most
They had a coach and still couldn't see me, it's like I had a cloak
How I make these niggas earl, they ain't Manigault
If you spoke up, you still couldn't have the flow
Bad approaches with good time and they hook, line
And sink to the bottom as quick as they blow
Frown faces once they see the positions we hold
Them bitches bent out of shape, Emily Rose, woah
I ain't gon' play with you
[Verse 1: J. Arrr]
Yeah, made this dope but it wasn't china white, I'm kind of nice
It's kind of like Jackson, Jordan, Tyson when I find a mic
I bake my own pie, you still tryna find a slice
Sold your soul for an easy break, that's Elijah Price
Line of sight through these niggas who missed the Glass reference
Whole life I trained to be clutch, won't fear my last seconds
Past lessons taught me how to get my bags healthy
And I never had to blow like the brass section
I just knew I would win as a hood kid
But growing up in the projects was like them hood films
Just more gory, I know some stories that shook limbs
But this is why I'm hot, it's like I booked Mims
A good kid in this mad city that's mad gritty
Ask the locals, they'll probably tell you it's mad litty
My bars be God level, they blasphemy
With the punches, this kid blackin', Jack Dempsey
Them stats empty, y'all disappear when it matters most
They had a coach and still couldn't see me, it's like I had a cloak
How I make these niggas earl, they ain't Manigault
If you spoke up, you still couldn't have the flow
Bad approaches with good time and they hook, line
And sink to the bottom as quick as they blow
Frown faces once they see the positions we hold
Them bitches bent out of shape, Emily Rose, woah
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