[Intro Speech]
[Verse 1: Fiction]
Yo, I don't believe this, like Seth Rogen to Jesus
Sess smoking is leaving my chest broken and heaving
Stress provoking these demons who be breathing down my neck
These heathens be teasing me got me reaching for the tech
Nine But it's strange, cause I ain't got one, Or a shotgun
But f** it man I got puns, And yes I'm hot, son
I stay cla**y like Jay Gatsby Or San Diego
To Ron Burgundy certainly man I got the fuego
Working these burdened knees, the kid is on a mission
His story will be historic if they just listen
Family structure, one big joke but I'm not laughing
I'm hoping that I'm coping when I'm smoking but I'm crashing
I'm just smoking then I'm ashing then I'm smoking then I'm pa**ing
Reach a divine state when I'm rapping
You know my mind state is like a rari and a lambo on a naked highway
But f** it you know i'm-a make it my way
Cause frankly I feel like Sinatra
Riding round the city feeling like Big Poppa
Only smoke blunts when the blunt rolled proper
Show stopper, now you know who shot ya
Oh gotcha, all you fools Ragu, imposta
I don't have a mother f** to give, b**h nada
And that goes for damns and sh**s and all synonyms
I'm just trying to be, so please, rest your opinion