[Verse 1: Black Thought]
Yeah, you so clich', you're the nouveau riche
That come up hard as a youth and knew no peace
You hit that lick and switched to a new motif
In a whip with two low seats and new gold teeth
You say you wanna live fast, gettin' paid in cash
Puffin' the most gas and die in a car crash
You never learned math in school, you cut class
So you can't count what's in the clip, you just blast
I feel your mind spinnin' in place and just bufferin'
And all you tryna see is someplace with less sufferin'
Or make a lot of big blue faces just hustlin'
What could I say that you would embrace? I guess nothin'
This isn't in attempts to reach you and your hitters
The last thing you do is bullshit a bullshitter
The streets is a bitch, you up in the club with her
You should cеase and desist, but you too in love with hеr, yeah

[Verse 2: Black Thought & Conway the Machine]
We pass the baton like a drum major at Howard
We transfer the power for salt, water, and flour
My pen packs a dawah, Akira Kurosawa
My ideas is gunpowder, secure the tower
That overlooks a graveyard full of cancelled n***as
Who paid ransoms when they made handsome figures
Guilt and bad business'll make a man religious
I'm the difference of Fred Sanford and Sanford Biggers
Save the revelry if you tryna lower level me
I'll be over seventy, flippin' the script regularly
Know the L holder 'bout to be you instead of me
Why? 'Cause you a dickhead, I'm a Dick Gregory
Sendin' every opponent disciplinary notice
Ulterior motives begin pure as a lotus
Even if uncertain, I bet you I never showed it
You checkin' for me to choke? I suggest you adjust your focus (Yeah)
[Verse 3: Conway the Machine]
Look, they heard me rhymin', they wanna know where they find me at
The grimy cat from the May Street trenches, insomniac
Three in the mornin', lurkin' in that Pontiac
Where I'm from, you gotta take your pole even when you go to the laundromat (Keep it on you)
N***as tried to line me, but I had time to react
We spin the same day, and the day after, we slidin' back (Uh-huh)
Empty the mop in broad day and leave somebody whacked (Boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom, boom)
He tried to run, three or four shots hit him inside his back (Brrt)
And that go for anybody that rap
That Buffalo n***a that catch the bodies back (Ha)
Hold up, rewind me back (Yeah)
They heard me rhymin', they wanna know where they find me at
The grimy cat from the May Street trenches, insomniac
Three in the mornin', catch me inside the trap
Knockin' off a ninety pack right by the door where the MAK-90 at (Uh-huh)
After the deal, the label still wanna sign me back
The contract worth a few mill', but I ain't signin' that (Hahahaha)

[Outro: Conway the Machine]
Yeah, n***a