[Produced by Drew Correa and Infamous]
[Intro]
I am not a human being
[Verse 1]
p**y for lunch, pop all the balloons and spit in the punch
Yeah, kush in the blunts
I ride through your block see a foot in the trunk
I don't know why they keep playing, they better re-plan
I'm giving 'em the blues, Bobby Blue Bland
Together we stand and fall on y'all
Balling with my Bloods, call it b-ball
These days ain't sh**, Young Money is
I got Mars bars, 3 Musketeers
Come through, coupe same color as veneers
And you know I'm riding with the toast, cheers!
Now I'm back on my grizz
And y'all's a bunch a squares like a mothaf**in' grid
sh**, f** with me and get hit
I finger-f** the Nina, make the b**h have kids
Just do it? My n***a, I just did
Name a mothaf**a deeper than me, b**h dead
You dig? This here is big biz
And I scream f** it's whoever it is
[Hook]
I am the Rhyming Oasis
I got a cup of your time, I won't waste it
I got my foot on the line, I'm not racing
I thank God that I am not basic
(I am not basic, I am not a human being)
[Verse 2]
Rockstar baby
Now come to my suite and get lockjaw baby
Rich n***a looking at the cops all crazy
It's the mob sh**, n***a, Martin Scorsese
Heater close range, cause people are strange
But I bet that AK-47 keep you ordained
You can't see Weezy nor Wayne, I'm in the far lane
I'm running this sh** hundred yard gain
Swag on infinity, I'm k**ing em
See the white flag from the enemy
Shoot you in the head and leave your dash full of memories
Father forgive me for my brash delivery
I will try you, I wouldn't lie dude
I must be sticky cause them b**hes got their eyes glued
Young Money baby, we the sh** like fly food
Y'all can't see us like the bride's shoes
I stand tall like I'm mothaf**in' 9'2"
I scream motherf** you and whoever design you
And if you think you hot, then obviously you are lied to
And we don't die, we multiply and then we come divide you
[Hook]
[Verse 3]
Reporting from another world
Magazine full of bullets, you can be my cover girl
Bless got the weed rolling thicker than a Southern girl
Strong-arm rap like a n***a did a hundred curls
Rockstar b*atch, check out how we rock
And if this ain't hip hop, it must be knee hop
I'm higher than a tree top, she lick my lollipop
I still get my candy from your girlfriend's sweet shop
Spitting that heat rock, I'm smooth, not Pete Rock
And my money on etcetera... three dots
Still get a stomach ache every time I see cops
You better run mothaf**a, cause we not
You better run 'til your feet stop
You ain't even on a f**ing alphabet in my tea pot
Colder than a ski shop, holding on to the top
And even if I let go, I still won't d-rop
[Hook]