Produced by C Y G N.

Moving just to keep the motion going to another pay day
Hoppin in and out of traffic weaving what my brotha gave me
Heard you got son, reminded me of that Nas cut
does he look like his pops, working jobs to clear the obstruct
eliminate the pavement in the way & press the foot to pedal
Trusting God & never looking back, I know I shouldn’t mettle
More or less I see success & sleeping less to paint this vivid
madness cross the atlas, I can see you but the names is different
posted up on the avenue, same dude I admired
shell shocked the system changed a man, blew out his fire
telekinesis me pieces since I moved out the shire
for a ring, hustlas’ll sell a busy bee a sting
Like Ming, Build a dynasty like God’s from nothing
Thinking I’d budge a fraction, but Odds enlisting me to sing
Is like trine control the weather while I’m pissing in the wind
Stepping directly to God, disrespect me or applaud
instead of dissecting a fraud kept dissing me, I win
Like Jin, fans cover the basis, it amazes me
I wasted a single bar, it isn’t me again
with a BPM, I could move gravity with hymn
my own version of global warming unravelling within
Can I get an Amen, got the muscle of 8 men
when I hustle I slay like a murderous weapon with a pen
Impossible you ain’t heard of us back then
Had the whole borough talking bout the basement where merciless had his den
anti domestic, I put all of this built up aggression
together, put a couple verses in eternal reflection
Praying to some unknown force in some external dimension
But my belief is in this Porsce that I swerve in possession
Feel bad in the best way possible
Finally made my way through this stress out obstacle
I’m free

Sucka emcees suck a diack
Stuck inside with dusted MP’s, fuck you be on
you’d sell this God particle flow like a gypsy to ride a whip
I heard all of the noise you making, sissy shit on a clip
If I could just turn back time, do some risky shit wit a zip
I’d be young moola stacking like a jew jeweller racking
new to you but OG like cracked concrete on souls of the kicks on 2 shoes is dragging
The Balkan Beat merchant who the Wu Crew is backing
Flames like Scotty, these lames get taught, a few free of charge lessons for the new crews that’s slacking
body any session, usher in a new direction, Godly em from an oppression that this voodoo is hacking
I should be the mayor of this modern day riot in a rap, bullshitters get flushed down a potty, a new election
for the thotthy & the playa at the party selling crack
got your youngest seed trina catch a body like that
slap a high school teacher too bitch to preach the real
Runnin drills like southside Chi trine reach a deal
it all feels upside down tryna keep appeal
drugs just to subside frowns, shit doesn’t seem real
repercussion of moving bricks up a steep hill
Woken up by movement of clips in the streets, will
this propulsion of all this corruption just sit still
like an Afta-1 production, I function to teach skill
Represented by every dead president on each bill
never tempted enough by the stuff to switch the niche, still
Kill a verse like nicotine, fill a hurst full of rap nerds like Mr. Bean
Cut up any words like a guillotine, bully up the beat & give a histamine
DJ pull this up like a limousine, DJ pull this up while I’m twisting green
wit the team overseas
Get my Bo flex on, tell the devil use the throat
raise the level on my shit, had to wrestle, prove I’m dope
Megapowers mega schemes, pray to mecca, touchin down
All this pain could have filled a house & made it jump around
All this rain could have made a fatter missy lose a pound
nothing but fitty cents in my pocket not a bullet found
still pretty like Ricky and gritty like Bulger round
lucky like luciano syndicate for the culture
Man pissing on half these shitheads, listen in get a plunger
making a duplicate copy, less significant of a sculpture
show it around like the real, but still missing fucking structure
Herbs with ergophobia afraid a bit of work’ll hurt the nerves like pneumonia
not giving a single fuck anymore like slutty girls in utopia
Man you can all get the J.O.
El go to rap, like white folks to mayo
dial tone in tact, I don’t like folks who lay low
and mold to fit the cracks like the pipe thrown in J Lo
Pray to my boy J all day like Mike owned a halo
But still depend on myself to see life go from grey zone to
to rainbow
This is Ele’s sayzone to take throne
You was just a phase, ride it out till your praise blown
producing a hit that gets you paid for a maison
and boosting a click paying to play in rotation
I’m picking apart your biz, shit is weak
I could make history, if this’ll leak
I should submit this to world star wit my dick in the pic
maybe you fucking twats’ll finally listen & hear me speak

About Vick 10912 Articles
Team NatStar & Curbside Jones.

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