[Beat Directive: The same continuous dark minor-key soul loop plays uninterrupted for the entire track, heavy vinyl crackle, no beat switch] [Intro] [8 bars of the continuous soul loop playing steadily] [Beat continues uninterrupted, no beat drops, no drums added] [Verse 1: Squeezing That] [Vocal Style: Dry deep male baritone, STRICTLY RAPPING, NO SINGING, zero pitch] [Delivery: Continuous flow, no breaks, Griselda off-beat cadence, aggressive spoken word] Writing like Wes Craven, the king like Stephen, A novelist, street journalist, plus the pocket knife with the army grip, Mr. Supply and put on fire your neighborhood strip. Firing pin, firing yes like I'm not expiring, Acquiring heavy weight, meticulous money wiring. Digits increase in batches through clearing houses, Bypass the bank, put the stash in multiple safehouses, Three mommies with matching Strict Timing blouses. It's more like art when it's custom, Who gave the order to bust him? Turn him into dust then never discuss him, Adjusting, slowly like the connect I'm starting to trust him, Want to cop so heavy that it disgusts 'em. 70 samples combusting, blowing up customs, Rush him with extendo blushing, Blazing shots, switches act like they in a hurry to make bullets disperse. For what it's worth, I put in work from hand to hand in pouring weather, To throwing body blows that tear through leather. B-boy pose look like Mayweather, Johnny Gill in 'Fairweather Friend', But more thuggish when given the 70 sample blend. [Hook: Instrumental Break] [The continuous soul loop plays steadily for 8 bars] [Slight volume swell on the sample, maintaining the dark minor-key atmosphere] [Outro] [The loop continues to play steadily and slowly fades out into heavy vinyl static] [No vocals]
