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It's Hirst/hearse verses and |
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Murakami/murder coming rhyming |
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All my raps is (superflat), all your raps is super wack |
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Tell him that the future's back, |
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DeLorean rolling down the block |
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You can call it shooting craps, and my roof is back |
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And my wings is up |
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Kingda Ka without |
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Kahlua, so you ain't got to pour the king a cup |
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Young Yakuza but, none of my fingers cut |
|
So I can still sip |
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Red Zinger with my pinkies up |
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Made/maid man, you can call this cleaning up |
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I'm OCD, I never think it's clean enough |
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That's what defines me, |
|
I never think it's mean enough |
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Lines deeper than those waiting on a sneaker, cuz |
|
You gone need two heads like the |
|
King of Clubs just to figure out the meaning of |
|
I'm just achieving buzz so stay out of son/sun way like you're drinking blood |
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This is what it feels like to be in love |
|
I mean come on, |
|
I mean look at what |
|
I'm dropping here |
|
Do this for the block and the blogosphere |
|
No, you ain't ready for the heavy, so |
|
I'll keep it light as jogging gear |
|
I don't want the throne, |
|
I want the helicopter rocking chair |
|
Jay gave me a co-sign like |
|
I was Roca |
|
Wear, but be clear |
|
I'm not the air/heir |
|
I'm the water, fire and the earth |
|
That means |
|
I'm doing dirt, spitting flames and quenching thirst |
|
And plus the real |
|
God has been on my side since birth |
|
I hope that he forgives me, |
|
I hope I do his work in every single verse |
|
Now I might do a dance, |
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I might even jerk, tell them niggas don't hate |
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Only God is great, |
|
Enemy Of The |
|
State |
