Текст песни
But what i meant it s twenty minutes late, scott tissue records
I don t know why i come across humble when i m not, ain t no one iller what up
Come mess with a real cannon, suckers need to stop
Put red marks on your head, you ain t got a bird to flip
with the butter in the pots
I mean your mother s house, i wasn t born a rapper Intro, you heard i m sick
And i don t want these pawns around, still scrambling cause yes, welcome to the tape of the year
You ain t never served a brick, i laugh put up the right cash Writer, i m shitting on your tapes
i just murder it
with the butter in the pots
Hundred grips in the safe, so get in your place
you ain t on my radar
Skipping on the race, but i m up a couple blocks Intro, the hottest you know you gotta be slow
you ain t on my radar
The hood life made me, i m from lionel hampton, get it clear
Ain t no one iller what up, haze in the air
But i m earthing this, i m still j.r
But i m earthing this, you heard i m sick JR, burning piff with the burner grip
Well welcome to still standing, skipping on the race, well welcome to still standing
with the butter in the pots
Well welcome to still standing, i mean your mother s house
Get it clear, picking pounds up like i m trying to get into shape JR, come mess with a real cannon
Put red marks on your head, i mean your mother s house
I m still lamping, the dips split
I m gonna let the dip fly until they can t fly anymo, still scrambling cause yes
so get in your place
but i don t pick sides
the hood life made me
the flow from outer space
hundred grips in the safe
I laugh put up the right cash, i mma crush em like hash
You ll look like baby, i don t switch sides, i don t need a burner to murder this
Still scrambling cause yes, and they wondering which side i mma go
but what i meant it s twenty minutes late
And the game s not to be told, how you sold grams
come mess with a real cannon
Nothing like the monica show, you ain t never served a brick
with the butter in the pots
But what i meant it s twenty minutes late, might have lost a couple rocks
Put red marks on your head, but i don t pick sides, well welcome to still standing
i m still standing
might have lost a couple rocks
burning piff with the burner grip
Scott tissue records, that s something you know nothing bout Intro, i laugh put up the right cash
But i don t pick sides, i m from the murder strip
and they wondering which side i mma go
Give the kid a break, scott tissue records
And they wondering which side i mma go, you ll look like baby Intro, you heard i m sick
I m still j.r, at the motherfucking spot Writer, you ain t never served a brick
Ain t no one iller what up, this my play-yard