Ayy, sit back as I rip from the chest
Microphone in my hand and a voice in my head
I'ma keep spittin' till there ain't none left
I guess death be the only thing that keep me set
Like, two years since I said ya dead
I made moves that the money ain't a thing, oh, yes
I stress that I'm not just a regular guest
The rap for the stacks, I bring back the boom-bap

Like, who that kid dressed in all black?
Every motherfucker wanna be on my track
I don't give a fuck about your cap-ass rap
You stay wack while I snap, keep the bars on tap, huh
All I hear is money-money bitches
But I don't see no money on the motherfuckin' bitches, uh
All I see is corny rappers acting famous
Like they made it but ain't makin' any fucking digits

Yeah, let me break it down for ya
You do it for the image, ain't nobody down for ya
Comin' up out the grave, I was underground for ya
Now I'm comin' and takin' the throne, better bow down for ya

Highness, leave your bank in the minus
All my bills are blue like my motherfuckin' iris
Fillin' up your head like a goddamn virus
Really wanna say my double dare, you fuckin' try this

What? All you get is my piss
Spit like a mag and I'm dumpin' my clip
Name someone else who be doin' this shit
Y'all can keep it coming, schema clique in this bitch

Ah, ah-ah, ah-ah, ah
Ah, ah-ah, ah-ah, ah
Ah, ah-ah, ah-ah, ah
Ah, ah-ah, ah-ah, ah

Sittin' on the curb with the .40 in the hand
Sun in the sky and the smog in the air
People lookin' at me for the clothes that I wear
You can see it on my face, man, I just don't care

Sittin' on the curb with the .40 in the hand
Sun in the sky and the smog in the air
People lookin' at me for the clothes that I wear
You can see it on my face, man, I just don't care

Time to kick dust up, I bust like a clip
When I duck out the back and I creep up like this
How many motherfuckers must get dumped with the gun quick?
This is for the souls that felt this
Who's that?
Comin' straight from the back
I just stack up my pack while you sit there and act
Tough motherfuckers wanna be so bust like they
Subject to another style they suspectin'

Everybody wanna be respected
Take a little shot when they least expect it
Who am I? Gotta be objective
The blade stay tucked and it ain't selective
Dissected, emptied out his pockets and kept it
Split a motherfucker from his posse like Brexit
I don't give a fuck about a man who said shit
Really want a feature but the flow expensive

Fuck out my way when I bust it like that
Sly goes the track and I punk out the gas
Fuck what you say and then fuck what you heard
I stick to movin', I fly like a bird

Spray words like it's blood to the paper
Stay cursed, but if I see things worse
When I go and get a rise I'ma take Earth
When you address me you go 'head and say "Sir"
Can I get a little bit of the steez please?
I reap the rewards of a war I'm knees deep in
I pull pins like a frag, I'm so bad
I bust slugs, bitch, and recover the bag

Ah, ah-ah, ah-ah, ah
Ah, ah-ah, ah-ah, ah
Ah, ah-ah, ah-ah, ah
Ah, ah-ah, ah-ah, ah

Sittin' on the curb with the .40 in the hand
Sun in the sky and the smog in the air
People lookin' at me for the clothes that I wear
You can see it on my face, man, I just don't care

Sittin' on the curb with the .40 in the hand
Sun in the sky and the smog in the air
People lookin' at me for the clothes that I wear
You can see it on my face, man, I just don't care