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Letra

Put a piece of prosciutto in front of the mic to stop the pops
Put a Pop Tart in front of it

Five bars for a stanza
I'm looking down on you from these trees like a gorgeous panda
While you looking like a f*cking George Costanza
I hold the answer, other rappers like colon cancer
I do a show, you throw your hands up
And I'll fold the money and roll the rubber bands up
Full clam banquet
I'm in the fine dining establishment
Wine and the best freshly caught-by-hand slabs of salmon with the perfect parents
The side dishes are a must
When there's five digits and plus tucked in an envelope that's sitting on my nuts
What? (What?)
All the ingredients of fine dishes
Sit back and you'll find my mind functions as exquisite as wine reduction on Atlantic fishes
(Salmon!)
If you don't like me, don't let it get to be an affliction
Fact is, your sister loves me, your mom listens and grandma's writing me fan-fiction
I'm auspicious while you wash dishes
Girls blow me soft kisses while they're dreaming of something that's more explicit
And all critics suck a long pennis
I'm standing different, while you sound like you need to sit down with someone who will hold that little hand and listen
You're sore and hurt, try to drag me through the floor and dirt
Just say my name, I'll hang a chain on my Dior shirt
Put in some more work

That's what I do

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