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Letra

Listen, yeah
It's all C sh*t, b*t*h
(183rd Street)

The young vet for the bucks, let's be honest
The way I structure it, timeless
The n***a mean, you call a queen, I'm bustin' nuts on your highness
But never mind it, guys come 'round with RFC
Prepare, friend, only the red skin like you RG3
Caught a flea from them, runnin' a stampede to win
I've been havin' dreams since ten, government gon' seize your Benz
I seize the night
n***as backstabbin' like they Caesar, have you seein' lights
Played the b*t*h role like you Madea, man, you need a wife
Boy, I'm shootin' threes, precise, endin' up a mil'
That ain't even basketball, that's for any other drill, n***a
He a sinner and a savior combined
Lyin' 'bout his own thoughts, he done made up his mind (Right)

First off, I'd like to say a few things (One, two, one, two)
I'm one of the greatest rappers breathin' if we're labelling
The game tried to ice me out like how Jesus hang
But I wrote this in hieroglyphics, sh*t, this sacred game
You can put this with the artifacts, artifacts
Penned around the world, sh*t, I autographed the almanac
Foreign spots, I'm good there, most these rappers all be cap
Big bro, you know the vibes, I'm like yeah, if you call it that
Judge me by my character, n***a, this is more than rap
How many your favorite rappers I done quarterbacked?
Livin' legend, that's proof, the fables always triple back through
Learned to hustle since back Triple F.A.T. Goose
Had some hiccups tryna get up, had to live with that too
sh*t, it was all about the dollar, nah, not Little Rascal
Kick down doors with pistols like hold up
Cristal, I pour up, this bout is over
Lo, top of the fiscal, I never not been official
Rerockin' the crystal, street n***a, got my credentials (Facts)
Ex-drug dealer, at the car dealer
And they tryna convince me, "Lo, please get the drop 'cause it fits you"
Remove the roof and I pull up like Pampers
Hop out lookin' like scammers, started as a ten grammer
Shooter with me keep the hammer
Watch your mouth 'fore you make my G pop, word to grandma
He been with me since the sandlot
Youngest tryna ball, base was f**kin' with the big dawgs
Dealin' ten seasons, now this rap sh*t is my spin-off
Turnin' off my trap phone, let me get my pen off
I get off on everything I get on, don't get odd
Hoppin' in the Pit-orsche with your bit-oh, then I skit off
Before she eat the gun, she wipe the Fenty on her lips off (Nasty)
Mack daddy, f**ked her so good before she spinned off
Left with her f**kin' pants backwards, all criss-crossed
Lo

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