Meadow High

[Intro] (plays artist beat tag) [Verse 1] It's been about 3 months since y'all last had real music About 3 months since I dropped Strawberry Milk Coincidence, man I don't think likely Either I'm talking about myself or I just had perfect timing What you think? FatherTime's a deadbeat So that second option kind of sort of gone out the window Suge Knight, hanging out the window Ron Brown, jumping out the window I'm more alien than Roger, so I guess y'all won't get that 10-4 Back in high school, niggas rolled dope with Lindo And now I'm looking dope with my average lenses on And my girl, I mean, I wish she was my girl But ol' girl got them Zebra Cakes, I mean like, ol' girl got them Zebra Cakes Said ol' girl got them Zebra Cakes, and y'all niggas still fake Took an x-ray and found cubic zirconium up in your poundcake Northern niggas wanna take the flow south And Southern niggas all wanna rap like Jeezy, Gotti, or Drake And ya whole life's a drama, rerunning the days of your lives You only listen to the Queen Bee, can't break from the Hive Kissing on ol' girl, see your lips got hives I'm glad a trill nigga made it out on time I'm glad the whole world exposed the truth for a lie 'Cus a lot of real jiggas just doing time, 'cus a groupie bit the truth and told a lie [Verse 2] Won't even let your feet warm on the beat from the coldness I'm giving So quick to change like Mystique but my attitude's frigid I know I'm bound to blow, with this propane that I'm spittin' Hitting on your chick like pool sticks, nothing but disrespect up in our sentence We make a pimp take notes on how I'm perplexing the system Stroking and flexing these words, with my tongue Like a ho with a private dentistry, A vow of silence really ain't fitting me I just talk on what needs to be said I want head in a comfortable bed 'Cus I'm below brick, like where the boulders they meet Got youngin's under 16, tryna spit a 16 so they can eat Je m'appelle ours panda, what about you? Oh, you a cheetah, that's a crime like where I'm from That deserves excommunication, like Napoleon Bonaparte, before he rose back to greatness I'm like Amelia Earhart over the Bermuda Triangle, 'cus y'all can't get my angle [Poetry Verse: Na'Cha Saeed]