Jayy Grams - Stashhouse lyrics

[Intro: Jayy Grams] Listen, yeah It's all C sh*t, b*tch (183rd Street) [Verse 1: Jayy Grams] The young vet for the bucks, let's be honest The way I structure it, timeless The ni**a mean, you call a queen, I'm bustin' nuts on your highness But never mind it, guys come 'round with RFC Prepare, friend, only the red skin like you RG3 Caught a flea from them, runnin' a stampede to win I've been havin' dreams since ten, government gon' seize your Benz I seize the night ni**as backstabbin' like they Caesar, have you seein' lights Played the b*tch role like you Madea, man, you need a wife Boy, I'm shootin' threes, precise, endin' up a mil' That ain't even basketball, that's for any other drill, ni**a He a sinner and a savior combined Lyin' 'bout his own thoughts, he done made up his mind (Right) [Verse 2: Smoke DZA] First off, I'd like to say a few things (One, two, one, two) I'm one of the greatest rappers breathin' if we're labelling The game tried to ice me out like how Jesus hang But I wrote this in hieroglyphics, sh*t, this sacred game You can put this with the artifacts, artifacts Penned around the world, sh*t, I autographed the almanac Foreign spots, I'm good there, most these rappers all be cap Big bro, you know the vibes, I'm like yeah, if you call it that Judge me by my character, ni**a, this is more than rap How many your favorite rappers I done quarterbacked? Livin' legend, that's proof, the fables always triple back through Learned to hustle since back Triple F.A.T. Goose Had some hiccups tryna get up, had to live with that too sh*t, it was all about the dollar, nah, not Little Rascal Kick down doors with pistols like hold up Cristal, I pour up, this bout is over [Verse 3: Nym Lo] Lo, top of the fiscal, I never not been official Rerockin' the crystal, street ni**a, got my credentials (Facts) Ex-drug dealer, at the car dealer And they tryna convince me, "Lo, please get the drop 'cause it fits you" Remove the roof and I pull up like Pampers Hop out lookin' like scammers, started as a ten grammer Shooter with me keep the hammer Watch your mouth 'fore you make my G pop, word to grandma He been with me since the sandlot Youngest tryna ball, base was fu*kin' with the big dawgs Dealin' ten seasons, now this rap sh*t is my spin-off Turnin' off my trap phone, let me get my pen off I get off on everything I get on, don't get odd Hoppin' in the Pit-orsche with your bit-oh, then I skit off Before she eat the gun, she wipe the Fenty on her lips off (Nasty) Mack daddy, fu*ked her so good before she spinned off Left with her fu*kin' pants backwards, all criss-crossed Lo