A Few Boys - Abracadabra lyrics

[DC] Got you hooked on our raps like the Few was Phonics The crew's sick, throwing our peace signs up like it was vomit I got the key to success, so I don't care if you lock it I'm like a train on these tracks 'cause once I rap you can't stop it I'm a white chill guy, yet I'm still fly, no lie My raps are best and scientific, ask your boy Bill Nye Yet still lie, still vibe, smoother than a silk tie I'm raining on y'all and yet, you're still dry I'm sick and still one of the best, call me Magic Johnson Stealing names and k**ing rappers but I'm not from Compton It's uncommon to find a rapper that spits constant hot content My raps on fire like hair on top of Andy Dalton Y'all can visualize success while I go and grab it I'm not rehabbing, but I'm a systematic emphatic winning addict I got the formula to life, and I'm not talking quadratic Girls are drawn to me like magnet 'cause I'll be a star like Patrick [Walker M] Look, I'm spitting from the crib to casket Abracadabra rapping like a rabbit-from-a-hat trick Havoc ama**ing ba*tard with a habit for exacting acts of vandalism Yo, I'm a man of bad example [DC] I'm too legit to quit on this sh**, call me Rod Odd, isn't it? That I'm k**ing in this game like I'm playing CoD I got the Juggernaut so I'm not gonna stop and drop my spot The Few Squad is always doing the right thing, call us Les Schwab [Walker M] Rhyming with intent to blow minds Watch your back, my combat tactic raps can blow mines Oh my God, he's handsome with a talent in semantics If you're asking me for beef you bovine dicks can go and blow mine [DC] I'm a**isting this game, like CP3, see 253 and AFB are all I need for me I go bananas on this rap, like a chimpanzee, G And your girl did have a shirt that said "I heart DC" [Walker M] The only thing I s** at is being bad at sh** Talk in paradoxes and the competition vanishes A fan of horror flicks? Yo, I'll show you where the attic is Shut your rabid trap, dog, I'll shoot you like I'm Atticus Atta kid, I'm naturally gifted Your flow is quite as whack as how I'm adequately pissing You're mad at what you're missing A Few Boys are a hop-skip-and-a-jump from the top with our eloquent linguistics Sixteen, but still the sickest syndicate Of syntax-spinning spitters, and with beats we're getting intimate And mystifying critics, splitting history in half A batch of cracker rap Messiahs, yo our narcissism's infinite A long ways from being shoved in lockers Walker keeps it popping like that Orville Redenbaucher Methodically marauding as often as Harry Potter Hear me spit and you'll insist that magic exists; Denzel Crocker