Always Winnin

[Intro] (I'm loving this generation) [Hook] (Y'all cats know we always play to win) Said I'm always winning (Y'all cats know we always play to win) [Verse 1] Feel me, grown man Back off the road and in my own home, watching Homeland And romancing with a mean girl, Lohan Trying to deprogram, Detox, lace the Reeboks Set a screen pop then shoot a three off The griot with deep thoughts, watching NBC Peacock Grizz, we stop not, till we EGOT Quote Jack Donaghy, pro-black Donna Lee Pump Pope Francis with a dope rap homily, yo I read some Facebook posts and I open TextEdit Cause I don't blog or Twitter, yaa, I get-get it And I kinda get Reddit but I don't really get credit Not like respect, like actually, I don't really get credit I don't got a credit card, good, no debts yet At times I go to pay and they say "Yo, we don't accept debit" Don't accept cash? Well, you make us have to get in debt It makes me wanna talk Illuminati on my next record Also rapping too, though, I don't really get credit I don't know, I'm pretty sure I'm the best at it Couple get close when they grind like Next You know, baby when we're grinding, that's "Too Close" by Next Check it, Shad's on that silly swag Jeans got that T-Boz and Chilli sag Seven minute epic rap Iliads Young black genius, some cats really mad Even political when I boast, now I Billy Bragg So from punk rockers to gun cockers to dumb jocks to Young doctors, they're all saying that I come proper Like "I knew he had lyrics, but that was a fun concert" Haters can hate, I'm unbothered, the bottom line is I'm always winning [Hook] [Verse 2] I said I'm always winning Kind of rhymes that got the mommies grinning Army print and vintage Tommy in my laundry spinning Speaking of mommies, lot of people call me Pops Because I'm always watching kids, trying to get it popping With a couple little poppy hits and they might pop a bit But look who's popping Cris in the post season, Popovich Champagne popping, but I started from the opposite of bottom Still on top of it, my dominance is Duncan-esque The rest is overhyped, these punks is under prepped And soft as One Direction while I'm sharp enough to puncture flesh One punch'll get you stumbling like a drunken mess Lungs compress, stuck in a stretcher until they run some tests Uncontestable, born to rest, sun is blessed So I'mma bring the pressure, I'm even better in sudden death Forever unimpressed, I'm clever, no wonder heads Pirate this like discovering treasure in a sunken chest Motherfunking fresh, the sound of thunder over rumbling jet Coming from the west where the sun gets set Not a Brit, but still a London rep Like I'm double deck busses, watch me bust this like a hundred TECs IQ measure by one question, who wanna mess With brother S.K.? Say yes, and you the dumbest yet Humble vet, still running with anyone that steps 'Til every tongue confesses that your boy belong among the best Always winning [Hook]