Tha Medley

[Verse 1: Youngin] It's the M-I-C-H-E-A-U-X After me, they hate that they gotta play you next You and your trap rap, sounding like crap-crap Claiming you pack crack and macs in your backpack Knowing you never had more than a couple of bags at a time Feeling you gotta brag in your rhymes Why, you never lived a real life or something Feeling hungry, living with no lights or nothing Mice are running around the kitchen like "What up" Roaches are running around not giving a fuck Nah, you don't know nothing about that life Because you always had cars and you always had ice, right? Tha Premier Tape is authentic Everything about it is real no gimmicks You can try to mimic and imitate my style But you will never get it, I'm irreplaceable pal, blow [Verse 2: Youngin] Imagine a nigga like me conforming to society Shrinking down my white-tee and screaming "fuck sobriety" Picture that like Kodak, you must be smoking on crack Or mixing coke with your pack if you think I'm doing that That nine-five, nine-six Jigga flow, niggas know That Youngin be walking straight on the beat and never pigeon-toed Here we go, here we go like I'm Domino Your momma know, Obama know, that Youngin is phenomenal The flow is astronomical, I'm out of this world Yeah, that's why I got you niggas pouting like girls Not Boy Meets World, but my white girl is like Topanga Because every nigga want's to bang her And drain the main vein, and leave a stain on her tanktop I leave her eyes slanted like she's Asian because she banged cock (Bangkok) kno me Because I'm the motherfucking man, I mean that shit Verbal disease on tha mic, vaccine that shit motherfucker [Verse 3: Youngin] This is some of that epic shit that you can only get with Preme All of my hip-hop heads you know what the fuck I mean Some of that gritty ass street music That cock a hammer, leave a nigga underground six-deep music That black-glove, black-tee music Some of that motherfucking Creep like TLC music They didn't know that Youngin had a G side We ride packing more stingers than a beehive And shorty knows whenever she rides She ain't getting no love unless she's sitting knee high Or spreading open her knee's wide Or bending that ass over so I can skeet on her cheeks, right You new niggas on the street on some rat shit 'til you get trapped for the cheese like "what happened" Trapped in, you lil' punks need to stay down Before they find your lil' body slumped on the playground