Class Act

[Verse 1: Nick Grant] I’m the paper man, boy it’s hard to hate me with your hating ass Flight so long take a day to land Better call for help 9-11 with the paper tag And money shouldn’t make the man Sliding with the sticks in the Jason mask Man I couldn’t even pay a bitch to glance Now these bitches want to do me like the latest dance Hold up, fuck those niggas get your money man they all jealous Who you kidding boy we shining like we bald headed Money long team strong like Carl Weathers Niggas playing both sides like pallbearers, preach I been straight keep it permed out When you doing dirt they bring the worms out Turns out niggas ain’t who they say, I’m as real as they come Check the sperm count I’m that nigga all these niggas overrated My ex still want me and she want to know the latest Let her give me top because she say I’m underrated I’m the poster child, like a fucking Gerber baby Spaz on rappers, bad bitch with me Pussy so fat look like her ass on backward Yea I’m from the bottom need a ladder to reach Still I brought more niggas with me than a [?] [Verse 2: Nick Grant] Got to get the money, real niggas know who run it You gone play it back because them other niggas fronting Ducking 5-0 like I owe you half a hundred Your team ain’t eating that’s some hard shit to stomach Body bag flow we gone need stretchers Checks look like we in the league we ain’t stressing All about the head like a DMV check it With some real bitches this the R&B section Yea, funny how you rap niggas fell off You ain’’t popping you’re going to have to write a tell all She gone get that thing wet because we well off Keep it ghetto like water on Kellogg’s Uh, and you should never burn bridges Went from A to Z, I’m talking firm business Game so cold I’m just pouring on a blizzard Off the bullshit like Jordan on the Wizards Yea, how you want it. A woman like a mom and you get to clone it From where these guns spitting like a live performance Pistol poking in my denim like I got a boner I’m the youngest legend that you ever seen Yea I’m from the dirty but forever clean You niggas always saying what you never mean Eyes glowing for the green like a Belly scene We the realest nigga [Verse 3: Dro] Pockets on flubber, I just hit a broad backstage now I’m rocking the show wearing rubber I’m truly not the others, I’m standing with the Cannons like Nick Then I hit them with fury my brother Fuck your opinions My niggas got dope when the feds come we talk like minions Flow is irreplaceable, swag untraceable I’m hungry lets have lunch at Benihana Ice is really rockable, niggas call me Dro Cruise because my flow mission is impossible Still up in Pappadeaux, still eating gators and the outfit mystery Mix now and later Hoes in the condo, Strivers Row [?] 44 caliber bussing at your brain [?] And when its time to die I want a Hustle Gang platter JG told me he needed me, terrific Out rap who, be more specific Dro holy with the flow, he’s more religious Killing these niggas, dig more than ditches Giving them stiches in front of these whores and bitches Dro and Nick fury shit so tremendous Step into my vision you better prepare for the battle Touch tabernacle yall niggas are cattle, beef