Cyhi The Prynce - Team Backpack MULA 2015 Cypher lyrics

[Verse 1: Jarren Benton] Yeah Jarren Benton What's up y'all, how the f** y'all feeling? Yeah, I hope I don't offend nobody with this sh** man Check it out Yeah I used to be broke as f**, whipping a Honda Accord with 2 spinners Dick stayed between your b**h's dress, no Bruce Jenner Igniting crack pipes with flames from butane b**hes used to play me to the left, said I was 'too strange' Now I'm getting head from Cali hoes and smoking new strains Ran a couple trains on foreign b**hes out in Ukraine Trying to be an honorary member of Wu-Tang But I'm throwed off like Uday and Qusay Hussein f** up your future I'll shoot the Ruger through your Uber I sift through cow manure for shrooms, out his medulla I'll sit in the car get head while I listen to Gwar I'll punch through your f**ing chest and kick my leg through your heart The illest lyricist, smack a rapper for spitting gibberish Hopsin never take me in public cause I'm too n******gish Ay, f** the police with Eric Garner's dead dick I need meds quick, snapping necks like breadsticks These new rappers a bunch of f*ggots and f** boys Ay, I bet you these n***as f** boys Fake thugs, Gustos, CB4 I talked to 'Pac with a Ouija board, Hail Mary Ay tell that b**h to shut the f** up when the song play Dyslexic; throw up gang signs the wrong way And d** got me having 'out of body's I k** a rapper, drop the corpse off in Abu Dhabi I'm doing donuts on a Kawasaki I'm with your b**h sipping sour sake [wtf happened here?] Ay n***a try me I k** you and f**ing hide the body I date old white b**hes that do mal-Pilates Uh, Tech'll blow you to Reese's Pieces Put you on a Stairway to Heaven and have you meeting Jesus Funk Volume the squad, salute to my n***a, getting cake Catch a b**h n***a and snuff him like Diddy did Drake Benton! We in this b**h! [Verse 2: CyHi Da Prynce] Yuh... LA y'all ready?! Okay Huh I see you n***a's green, night goggles I'm a activist, I belong in a Sprite bottle I write novels, the last testament Thou said to Prynce, "you won't find these verses in Christ's Bible" My pistol ain't got no body like a white model I don't listen to rap n***as cause I like gospel I grew up with some Night Riders; David Ha**ellhoff Who won't stop rapping white; Asher Roth Involved with albatross at the Travel Lodge n***as try to sabotage a n***a catalogue Your sheep ain't herd; my wolves will knock the cattle off Leave your whole neighborhood wet; it's raining cats and dogs The rest of the survivors to the casa On tour with nothing but riders on my rider Whoever knew Duna was the driver of that Sonata That I would have so much truth inside my saliva n***as throwing shade in my face, just like this visor So I got some partners that're k**ers so I advise ya Not to f** with young Elijah, cause my guys'll Throw the body in the trunk and lake 'em like As-salamu Huh, we the saviors of our genre Huh, to bring the youth to the truth, is our honor From youngsters out in Ghana reliving Hotel Rwanda I can't sleep cause there's kids with nowhere to slumber We should give Nobels to mommas and women who held us under I know my momma worry, from my past of life's crimes I still use a notepad when I'm writing my rhymes Cause literally, I put my life on the line I'm out this b**h [Verse 3: Joell Ortiz] Team Backpack, What's up?! Yaowa I wrote this last night in my bed Cause they've been sleeping on me people said Funny cause I could do this standing on my head I can't stand y'all like 2 bad prosthetic legs Something like an OG, just a newer version of the old me Hungrier than I was back in '03 Got a little change, but I ain't changed, n***as know me But the Rollie do shine while I'm holding up an O.E This thing here locked, you would think Joell a Rasta These n***as queer, they career's on a teleprompter Bunch of gimmicks, motherf**ers couldn't tell a chopper From a fifth, cause when I said that, they thought helicopter I tired of looking left and right. We made a left, right? And now I feel like everything that's left ain't right If you a up and coming rapper, here's the best advice Chill out, I'm running the show without a extra mic I'm telling you God spoke to me He said "little man, listen closely, I gave you most of me Therefore you're way more than man's supposed to be Hopefully you reach supreme Yaowa" I said, "hopefully!" Every track is hard I'll single-handedly crack your squad in half for having average bars What's a battle scar? I'm unscathed, I should smash guitars On your bum waves, or tangle your dumb braids for how trash you are n***as probably like, "Ortiz spazzing" it's just me rapping In a rush, I got a mean bad one waiting on me in the meat packing I'm bringing keys to the dream In case I'm the key to her dreams and she need me packing I been listening to the streets yapping Putting Gucci stickers on my laptop, you know, G-Macking See sk** is something you will never see me lacking That's a selfie in church clothes, picture me slacking I tried to tell y'all dumba**es In '07 I make these n***as step on their white sungla**es Now we turning to Smurf Village, y'all let it But Gargamel been doing barbell presses I'll stomp your little movement, crush your little cave Turn your wave to a ripple in a puddle near your grave I know the real you, the real you, so behave Without the lies and cameras you don't want that action backstage I'm on my real new york sh**, four-fifth careful where you walk sh** Cause you could turn chalk next to dog sh** Where I'm from we're awkward, look Khalid, a coffin Spitting up your organs on your way to being corpses Every other day I stood around some sh** that'd make you nauseous Buck 50, son cheek falling while he talking Dead woman walking, wish I saw the cla** portrait Shorty used to be bad that dope made her a monster Y'all n***as know, y'all n***as whack rap I put this cypher in my knapsack, n***a this Team Backpack