Knaw mean? Money. Got it, and we conversatin’. Dope. Economic lubrication. Beef. Love what I do, and they hate it. Bitches. Pussy feel like heaven—it bring me close to Satan. Villain to some women but I know they be so basic. And I know gorillas from the zoo, and they go apeshit. If you got a problem, then for real you need to state it. Puffin’ on the loudest got me higher than a spaceship. Amount of dollars that I want to see on the daily? Plenty. Many monies you need to pay me. Don’t play me; no ukulele. Baby, you crazy. What you sayin’? Bitch, you trippin’, man. Woke up, took a piss and two vitamins. Rolled up two spliffs, and I’m hittin’ ’em. To all wack rap actors listenin’, Y’all get smoked like Spike Lee joints. Debatin’ n***as freeze up from ice-cold points Tight throat, leave pipsqueaks with no voice. Chut up. You why I set the flow to DESTROY. What up? You alright? Let me know, little boy. Uh-huh. That’s right. Get home to your toys. Nah-ah. Night-night, bedtime, no noise. In a void; dead. Beat your ass like ya dad. My units get deployed; now your whole crew unemployed. Your foolishness annoys me, and you lookin’ sad. And you lookin’ dumb. You rookies make me laugh. And you should know damn well by now I’m in my bag. When you see me on the ave, don’t even ask shit. You not Mike Jack Bad; are you even a bad bitch? Better bring some magic; put you in a flick, no script. Right now, no panic; this here feel like Thriller. I’m a zombie with long reach, I need brain. Get the picture? Paint it like a painter paints. Saints better pray—I put n***as in the grave. Put ’em in a coffin, coming ’round me coughin’ plague. Money. Got it, and we conversatin’. Dope. Economic lubrication. Beef. Love what I do, and they hate it. Bitches? Try communicatin’, baby. Never try my patience. Money. Got it, and we conversatin’. Dope. Economic lubrication. Beef. Love what I do, and they hate it. Love. Miscommunication; too many situations. Paid? Damn. Chains ’round wrists for da paper in hand. Slave? Stand. Break out the cage, pick fast on the lam. Today? KaBlam. Straight off the page to stages advanced. Grade? Grand. Thousand-dollar panty-drop, no waste bands. Dreams into brands, Schemes in demand. Game played easily; Monopoly Man. Taking property. Dummies tryna copy me, But they do it sloppily. Probably ’cause they not me. Me, the trailblazer. He come with flavor; she gets a taste. See the hell-raiser, feel pins in ya face. Come bring a razor, come bring the mace, Burnin’. Forever cut through fuckery; Eternal surgeon. Who need surgery? Urgently, I suture futures, Kindly cut drama; Neuter fools, carry on, stay calmer. Karma girding me; that’s armor. I force sharp departures. Much more in store comin’ soon to you. Groovy movies, doob tubes, Scooby-Doo clues, and Looney Tunes. Decide, Do, Or die for YouTube views. Which you choose? Whatever I Wanna do, Pursue. Can’t see it? Don’t believe it? Just like the wind, bitch, you gon’ feel it. Five fingers can’t steal it; no discounts. To all on my dick, you may dismount. All that shit gotta get put down In the pound, in the ground. Bitch, no dog, no bark, no balls. Go in, go hard, go sin, repent, the end, oh God. Money move like it know me. Dope charge tryna hold me. Beef cook so slowly. Bitches better blow me. Money—motion. Dope—dosage. Beef—commotion. Bitches—devotion. Money, the motive. Dope, the odor. Beef, explosive. Love, an aura. Money, the language. Dope, my fragrance. Beef, some danger. Witches, angels, Demons, and strangers. I been up late, lucubratin’ with the light low. Mind move great, but the body move psycho. Words cut clean when the pen go Michael. I don’t need a team, I’m the GOAL with a typo. Knaw mean? I’m in between obscene and a dream. I’m a scene in a scene, On a screen getting seen. Too mean to seem, Too sweet for teens Who tweet these memes Like fiends for cream. Talk slick, get clipped by the cadence. Flow burn bright, radioactive radiance. Made it out broke, just released from the station. Still talk cash like a financial statement. Money. Got it, and we conversatin’. Dope. Economic lubrication. Beef. Love what I do, and they hate it. Love. Try communication, baby. Never try my patience. Money. Got it, and we conversatin’. Dope. Economic lubrication. Beef. Love what I do, and they hate it. Bitches. Pussy feel like heaven—it bring me close to Satan. Knaw mean? Money. Dope. Beef. Bitches. Motion. Dosage. Commotion. Devotion. Economic lubrication. Love what I do, and they hate it.
