I Am Not a Human Being

[Produced by Drew Correa and Infamous] [Intro] I am not a human being [Verse 1] Pussy for lunch, pop all the balloons and spit in the punch Yeah, kush in the blunts I ride through your block see a foot in the trunk I don't know why they keep playing, they better re-plan I'm giving 'em the blues, Bobby Blue Bland Together we stand and fall on y'all Balling with my Bloods, call it b-ball These days ain't shit, Young Money is I got Mars bars, 3 Musketeers Come through, coupe same color as veneers And you know I'm riding with the toast, cheers! Now I'm back on my grizz And y'all's a bunch a squares like a mothafuckin' grid Shit, fuck with me and get hit I finger-fuck the Nina, make the bitch have kids Just do it? My nigga, I just did Name a mothafucka deeper than me, bitch dead You dig? This here is big biz And I scream fuck it's whoever it is [Hook] I am the Rhyming Oasis I got a cup of your time, I won't waste it I got my foot on the line, I'm not racing I thank God that I am not basic (I am not basic, I am not a human being) [Verse 2] Rockstar baby Now come to my suite and get lockjaw baby Rich nigga looking at the cops all crazy It's the mob shit, nigga, Martin Scorsese Heater close range, cause people are strange But I bet that AK-47 keep you ordained You can't see Weezy nor Wayne, I'm in the far lane I'm running this shit hundred yard gain Swag on infinity, I'm killing em See the white flag from the enemy Shoot you in the head and leave your dash full of memories Father forgive me for my brash delivery I will try you, I wouldn't lie dude I must be sticky cause them bitches got their eyes glued Young Money baby, we the shit like fly food Y'all can't see us like the bride's shoes I stand tall like I'm mothafuckin' 9'2" I scream motherfuck you and whoever design you And if you think you hot, then obviously you are lied to And we don't die, we multiply and then we come divide you [Hook] [Verse 3] Reporting from another world Magazine full of bullets, you can be my cover girl Bless got the weed rolling thicker than a Southern girl Strong-arm rap like a nigga did a hundred curls Rockstar biatch, check out how we rock And if this ain't hip hop, it must be knee hop I'm higher than a tree top, she lick my lollipop I still get my candy from your girlfriend's sweet shop Spitting that heat rock, I'm smooth, not Pete Rock And my money on etcetera... three dots Still get a stomach ache every time I see cops You better run mothafucka, cause we not You better run 'til your feet stop You ain't even on a fucking alphabet in my tea pot Colder than a ski shop, holding on to the top And even if I let go, I still won't d-rop [Hook]