J.R. Writer - Pay Homage lyrics

[Verse 1 - 40 Cal] You see, my money like a baker's shop That's why I make the powder blow First I get "papi" bread, then I make sour dough You still pump-a-nickel, move every hour: slow My work so powerful. Your money ours, bro Ain't no bagel jokes, but for bu*ter I be raisin' toast Like a bread truck I keep the latest loafs I serve beef, grab pounds and squeeze Get sick with the 40, call it "Mad Cal Disease" My n***as get down for cheese and felony raps Ya'll n***as hamsters: really can't tell if they rats But you call em turtles when the shell in they back I play 8Ball from Menace, I can help you with that Then I'm back to melt the track soon as the vanilla crack 2-door NSX: that's a selfish Ac' Mack to your pelvis, black, I put you where Elvis sat Walk in pawn shops when I take your chain and sell it back [Hook] (It's the Dip-dip-d-d-d-dip-Dipset!) You guys are not a threat, pay homage to the best (Dip-dip-d-d-d-dip-Dipset!) We got the streets owned, you cannot compete, holmes (It's the Dip-dip-d-d-d-dip-Dipset!) Any problems it's a wrap, we put Harlem on the map (Dip-dip-d-d-d-dip-Dipset!) You now rockin' with the best, pay homage to the Set [Verse 2 - J.R. Writer] Listen: I'm 'bout flipping, but if the slouch tripping I put some scratch on his head like his scalp's itching Dig it: JR is hot. Whippin': the car is drop Barbies watch the dealer. Admit it: I'm hard to top Hater, I'm back. Face it: you're whack JR is crack, the same thing they place in a pack I stay in the trap So, no, you won't hear "808" when I put some damn ba** on a track I bring the fiends out, give them n***as what they need I don't see droughts, it is figures what I see Bring them ki's out to the middle of the P's No matter the temperature degree Rain, sleet, snow, I'm pitching em for sheez Peel bricks, you'll have to go to Switzerland for these I get them off the greez, it's easy to the beast You should bow down the next time you see me in the streets!