JR Writer - I Really Rap lyrics

[Intro: Dave East] Huh? What a day [Verse 1: Dave East] Fresh out the bookings, my mental thinkin' about millions Watchin' for cameras, couples hammers we stashed in the building Different, ain't got no answers for me Negative vibes in my circle feeling like cancer to me Kidnap your daughter, we on her, go get that ransom for me Connect from Indonesia, about his paper I'll date you later, ‘cause him don't need ya Dope is amazing, it got him shakin', look like a seizure b**h from Jamaica, they hatin', f** it, they in the bleachers I'm startin' five, eyes open, just look alive Go through my book of rhymes, you'll see that I took my time O.G. got that raw smell, Ivy League, no Cornell Double cup with my sprite mix, transportin' with a white chick See the burrow with a perc' in me, pilot told me I'm a flight risk Cross the border, got work with me, early morning plus night shift Got a hit man, just make the call, he write the list Side b**h got my wifey pissed, wanted an icey wrist since ‘96 But [Bridge: J.R. Writer] The real is back, how real is that? Where them writtens you've written at? They chicken scratch I don't listen to silly cats with simple tracks Who told you that they was feeling that, that sh** is wack (huh?) [Chorus: J.R. Writer] I really rap, I really rap, (turn me up) Yeah, I really rap (Talk my sh**) Don't compare me to nobody, my sh** is crack [Verse 2: J.R. Writer] Look In Harlem, I'm goody, your [?] was hoody You play me just a little B, I'ma stomp you and boogie I'm far from a rookie, don't disrespect it, and just expect it Your girl gon' throw the mouth piece until she get rejected The kid's selective and you reckless with them hoes you pick She need to go get stitched, she doesn't even know she hit Expose you pricks and you hoes, you want a lift? The answer's no I cut it short, I'm from New York, that's like a walk, Amber Rose It ain't hard to see I copped out on armory D. Wade, Cavaliers, opt out, don't start with me J.R. should be your idol, I ain't your rival And y'all ain't f**in' with me, period, y'all need some Midol Mind you, I'm in a room 'bout as high as the Eiffel And it got so many views, it's about to go viral I should advise you, I'm tuckin' the semi Settin' up shop just to f** with the city, who tusslin' with me None of them, I'ma be ripping the mic til I'm hundred and twenty Yeah, understand I rock, all these bands I clock Fresh out the big shack and “Your man's not hot” f** the plans y'all got, I will son y'all any day Come brawl or you in the way, young boy this the NBA [Chorus: J.R. Writer] I really rap, I really rap Yeah, I really rap Don't compare me to nobody, my sh** is crack