(Intro)
Yup, EMP be the team
Real on the way, first 48
And this will happen when the followers of Christ got bars
Ya ready? Yuh, ah
(Verse)
Ya lookin' at me like if you won't like me then nobody will
If I don't rock a chain, then ain't nobody will
Talkin' banks, put my hand on the wheel, they gettin' deals
Talkin' that jazz and toss em out like I'm uncle (Phil)
Kinda ill with the fresh prints, I hear silence (silence, silence)
Yo pants glitter, ain't fair to compare silence
And I ain't with all the fam flare
The snare hit, yo nails clipped
A lil too scared to appear violent
This for the glory, homie, I ain't hit the summers yet
I want a white picket fence with a ?
But if it's a prolem, I'm bombin', it's not a luxury
I'm just tryna sit comfortably, fresh in my dumble jeans
You new rappers, bumble bees, buzzin' for the moment
But you buggin' me, which one of you buddies is the one who stink?
Then you be the one to stink, gimme yo best shot
I'll hop in the DjBooth, squash you and leave ya under sneaks
I got bars on top of bars, like Olympic games
But now the bars got emphasis, ? and typhus
Lyricists main droppin' fo' lil twitter thang
I'm on a shame, man, it's been a change in my demeanors
So I ain't finna nae, one writer in the bong cipher
You still bitin' but the dinner's change
I pray for em, palm press for the hand sign
I'm hot, boi, lil sunburn and a tan line
I went from squeezin' on the biddies like an immigrant(?)
And broad snappin' to a family man
You new rappers, still rhyming bout your burners and boss themes
Spittin' bout as reckless as the Kermit The Frog meme
Stop, cause y'all don't pop guns, ya'll pop adjectives
I spit real raps without the additives
I spit that truth, something I had to give
Gospel, offsetting all them fictional bags you pitch!