25

[Verse 1] Hol' up, homie, is this bad to begin your business with? Making music for intelligent minds and the intricate Tried to tweak the beat that gate released, indeed I sent the kit Threw a bus, compress lyrically for all my production purposes Trust me, I will ride for my syndicate Only twenty minutes left on my clock Before I gotta crawl out of bed again, so please, father We harbor hatred in our hearts, never had another perspective I've always ref from dark, this my orbit Since solace appeared before me, just hear my story Little niggas with dreams of being Shawn and Corey But maybe not your idol, but I don't mind, my eyes are fine See through projections of life, in pursuit of the idle mind I pushed it to the threshold Despite my failed attempts to make popular manifesto What's the problem, I was only average? Two years later now I'm zombie status Passporters on the passenger, pussy flooded my palace Pussy all on my palate, niggas still talking challenge I'm Erick Morales, knock yo pineal off balance Whether music or the bank, you gonna lose some interest But for now to be frank I only think your listening for Feelings for familiar faces when you see them All you sipping, codeine All your clothes, European Either way I'm just losing interest Rip yo doors off the hinges, don't need opinions If they fake emotions like a stewardesses, Misses [Hook x2] Only God knows why y'all question my ability Some days I feel like I was born in 1970 If I only knew better, If I wasn't programmed already Show up late to party, too late to see the fall of confetti [Verse 2] Hol' up homie, is this Stupid to be this honest? I rap before the production, now niggas paying me homage Drink 40s until I vomit, my niggas retrieve the comet Pulled it right from the sky, that's what you do when you're God If you talk shit, I reply, niggas don't know what the fuck they got But the boy gon' bus it, never gon' trust it Never gonna touch it if it's gon' die Why try making a difference, when individuals ain't original? Seen you niggas copy and pasting pieces from years ago This ain't a miracle, I sacrificed my whole life for this shit The whole world know I'm doggy, I feel like Michael Vick ESPN for the men of men, women pretend to grin when they watching The truth is, I give them no option Pardon my pockets, pardon my cocky, partly a papi Italian women, they love a nigga driving Ferrari Stolen jalopy, go to poon javi Don't want no molly, mami, the weed inspires the eye inside me I be [Hook x2]