Lord Knows

[Verse 1] Spit like my lip got a dip or two Sicker than playing Chubby Bunny with your chew Tryna make my money stretch like Twister do Plus I'm playing tongue-Twister with your sister, too Call me Mister Cool, I'm the Kool-Aid Man Oh yeah, pop shit, no gun in hand You wan' get with me? Fuck no, man You can go jerk off, thinking that you come in hand You ain't going nowhere, do the running man Ironic I'm like Walker, I run this land Fuck the governor, fuck the government I'm going hard with the wit, call me Cunningham So fly, I oughta hit the runway next I air plain punks out and LA-flex Pull up, nine seven, you can tell I'm blessed I am Jesus Chrysler in a LHS Lank God Almighty Dollar, blue-eyed son So parochial, I get schooled by none You lack class, that's why you school no one Wack ass, couldn't make a fool go dumb Spit so sick, turn your whole gang green Fathered your style Yeah you got the same jeans If a pipsqueak says that I spit weak I'll leave him up shit creek and call it the mainstream [Verse 2] You get paddled in a battle, shout out the last bar Of the first verse, this ain't NASCAR Just tryna pave my way, no black tar I still earn hard, and hit the track hard Lead the pack like the pace car, hotter than a Pace jar Friends rolling, I'm speeding like racecar Even if I'm higher than a Ace card I can tell who's two-faced like a face card Y'all never take charge like Chase cards getting declined Same style when you're spitting a rhyme Fast-forward past yours and they listen to mine I stopped playing now they're hitting rewind Give it no mind, not even half a thought You spit garbage, dog, fuck the trash you talk I'm doper than pot with hash on top Take an L? Oh well, I laugh it off ROTFL, you fellas are lame If I sign to Roc-A-Fella then I'm selling the chain I want the Jigga figures, cash and the fame So I can feed the poor and dash with your dame Not a gentle man, I'm a mental man Brace yourself: dental plan Cuz I knock teeth out when I spit shit And I get shit moving like a rental van