[Intro]
Yo
I got some of the finest of the herbs with me tonight
[?]
Cause I wanna [?] all this shit
(Yeah hit the weed Greenthumbs)
I don’t wanna hit the weed
I just wanna know which one of these beats that you about to fucking kill
I actually know the n***a that gave you this shit
So you gotta have me on this shit
It’s the n***a [?]
I was there when he did the shit
I know you got some [?] over there tell me what’s good

[Verse 1]
What it do n***a?
Still listening to [?]
Street clothes in the meeting n***as still know the business
I know some n***as that’s so hood they too good to eat an apple
To feed the captain manure, you knee deep in that shit
Seen a dude this morning that didn’t look hungry stick his arm in a garbage can
You can fall off even as the hardest man
So I never sit down to paint which verses
I put all in my craft
Write bars doing worship
Lord forgive me
I just want to be the best that I can
Besides I don’t want to wish death on a man
The king of putting flesh in a can (Ew)
Rest in peace to Marcus Scott
Look at my pictures I took with him in an Arctic spot
It’s already a cold ass world
An ear is all I ask for but you got on earmuffs
Vic Spencer the rapping active mother fucker
Bars unattractive so I guess that’s why they aren’t radioactive
Your verse remind me of a verse that didn’t make it
Do a song now and you will hear it on some late shit
New ass iPhone, ’94 music in it
A good year for me to jump ahead first in this business
Ain’t been around so long so they wrote a book about me (Damn)
One opinion to make a bitch write a hood about me
(Fuck that bitch dog)
They supported you back then but now they don’t
You’de have to cock buffet a lot to get whatever they want
I don’t settle for losses, winning my occupation
Grinning she ovulating in linen talking with masons
(Ooh you trying to have a baby)
I never heard of a black Jew
I smoke hella squares just like black Matt do
I swear to god the shit tough
In the condo doing 35 group home sit-ups
Wanted to kiss your bitch on the next it smelled like horse hiccup
Jeans ripped up, I’m happy my baby’s smarter than kipper
She’s a second grader in a third grade class
Shitting on the students like daddy taught her ass
As for me (Vicky)
This rap business a full course meal
You all talk too much
You don’t know how real work feel
Lyrical exercise, spit holy
So they call it spiritual pesticide
Save the game from the ugly ass n***as who can’t dress
I’m fresh I should be topped with garlic pepper crust
Playing Japanese chess
To see her chest I used to watch [?] eating Chex
Found out how to eat the treasure chest
And I’m like yes (Yummy)
And now I won’t let the mic rest
In the street [?] taking an intelligence test
[Outro]
Aw yeah that was you over there with the saggy pants
I was there too
And all these ugly mother fuckers
They act like they’re better than you and shit
Cause they got like all of the success
[?] mother fucking rappers too
You ill with it
It’s like I got the best hoes I got the bars too
Now I understand what you’re going through
You gotta keep doing what the fuck you’re doing
Work hard