Tekst piosenki
[J.R. Writer] Writer, nigga had the never to ask me where I've been at What I've been up to, know what I told him? Well umm, I'm still track merkin, crack servin, swervin, black Bourban Get your ammo this Rambo the rap version You cats hurtin, back burnin, that's certain I'm ether, fuckin up more features than bad surgeons Back to the streets, crack is the street The producer should be payin me to rap on this beat My swagger's elite, who slicker than J? Shit e'ryday I walk around lookin like a window display Kick to my shades, kick to Ni'che, please If you ever cop D's I'mma have to give 'em away Nigga I'm paid but shit is real, fuck how a nigga feel You would swear it was Black Friday how I'm gettin deals You get the chills when I throw you a rap And fiends argue all day he's too dope to be crack So it's a fact, my stuff the greatest, you better save it I kill a track and send my condolences to whoever made it Forever hated, these haters wish that I never made it However make it but this here was all premeditated Uh-huh family I'm sicker, damn it I'm slicker If I wanted to see the future I'd go stand in a mirror The man in the mirror, tell me that I'm crack with the verses Lil' chalk around the body I'm just scratchin the surface Bashin on purpose, all these rappers are weak So like Pat Riley nigga welcome back to the Heat Writer~!
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