[Verse 1: CyHi the Prynce]
I’m Martin Luther with the heart to shoot ya
Screaming "hallelujah" walking out the jeweler
Fuck the highway trooper and the prosecutor
Shades made by medusa for the barbecuers
Shittin’ on 'em in the club, I'm a party pooper
My cigars from Cuba and my broad's from Hooters
My patna got the goopa, and I got the buddha
‘Cause kush ain't that hard to push like a car in neutral
We were the first niggas rocking Dior Homme shoes
I’m in a class of my own, I went to home school
‘Cause when ya money Nia Long, fool
You can even make Stacey Dash if you want too
Pull up in that jag like I'm Jones-Drew
Just called my patna for a quarter, that’s a phone booth
A redbone is who I'm prone to
Cyhi the Prynce, you looking at the Watch the Throne crew
3 hot emcees, huh, and I’m all of ‘em
I got a New York state of mind, I just talk southern
My name ring like after you hit the call button
And hater you a nobody: Paul’s cousin
Haters talk tough and won’t draw nothin'
Pull out faster than the first time you got caught fuckin’
Remember when you had the green by the mile?
Yeah, rest in peace to Michael Clarke Duncan
Back when my niggas had the white and soft bunkin'
Drop the flour in the pot, look like a rice ball dumpling
Getting doe, got me walking pigeon-toed
And I get laptop like the Microsoft company
When I say that I'm the best, shot’s fire, pow pow!
Sound like somebody let a rifle off or something
This is lemonade in the sun
What you know about spending days on the run?
Yeah, my last project was a masterpiece, shit, like the slave owner's gun
And, yeah, I’m underground like the railroads
I will never change, I'm jail clothes
In my shell toes
I’m Bones Jones with the strong, holmes
'Cause all i got is elbows, nigga
I’m Martin Luther with the heart to shoot ya
Screaming "hallelujah" walking out the jeweler
Fuck the highway trooper and the prosecutor
Shades made by medusa for the barbecuers
Shittin’ on 'em in the club, I'm a party pooper
My cigars from Cuba and my broad's from Hooters
My patna got the goopa, and I got the buddha
‘Cause kush ain't that hard to push like a car in neutral
We were the first niggas rocking Dior Homme shoes
I’m in a class of my own, I went to home school
‘Cause when ya money Nia Long, fool
You can even make Stacey Dash if you want too
Pull up in that jag like I'm Jones-Drew
Just called my patna for a quarter, that’s a phone booth
A redbone is who I'm prone to
Cyhi the Prynce, you looking at the Watch the Throne crew
3 hot emcees, huh, and I’m all of ‘em
I got a New York state of mind, I just talk southern
My name ring like after you hit the call button
And hater you a nobody: Paul’s cousin
Haters talk tough and won’t draw nothin'
Pull out faster than the first time you got caught fuckin’
Remember when you had the green by the mile?
Yeah, rest in peace to Michael Clarke Duncan
Back when my niggas had the white and soft bunkin'
Drop the flour in the pot, look like a rice ball dumpling
Getting doe, got me walking pigeon-toed
And I get laptop like the Microsoft company
When I say that I'm the best, shot’s fire, pow pow!
Sound like somebody let a rifle off or something
This is lemonade in the sun
What you know about spending days on the run?
Yeah, my last project was a masterpiece, shit, like the slave owner's gun
And, yeah, I’m underground like the railroads
I will never change, I'm jail clothes
In my shell toes
I’m Bones Jones with the strong, holmes
'Cause all i got is elbows, nigga
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