Marco Polo - Yada Yada lyrics

[Verse One] [Supastition] It's the return of your recurring nightmare Southern messiah who only rock the fliest Nike Airs Industry black sheep trying to fight being typecast Screaming NC 'til they put me in that white casket It's the day of reckoning, I'm the wrecking ball when the record spins Since the ?uest recommend, I've counted consecutive wins Been in so many cities you would think I teleport Keep fans eyes bulging out like Tracee Ellis Ross Read between the lines, I define unsung Continue to son dumb n***as 'til the funds come And anybody trying to stop the agenda Will see I got a hotter temper than a mafia member I rapped alongside Crooked I, Phonte, Elzhi They look at I, reply "he's no Kanye sales-wise" Keep it one hundred when others respond and tell lies I'm humble, keep my head screwed on and held high I never let the fame command me, I've seen it turn Righteous n***as into Amos and Andy, jigaboos Hip hop's my humble abode, I treat it like royalty But these young boys, they be pissing all on the toilet seats Disrespecting legends, someone call the board of ethics These dudes ¼ sk** and three quarters reckless Yelling 'bout the legendary, legend what?! You don't even measure up to the Kanes and the Lord Finesses [Hook]: Now everybody screaming they the king, yada yada They making outlandish claims and nobody's bothered Tell them fools stay in their lane, they out of order Don't make me grab one of these young lames by the collar [Verse Two]: Before you ever spend money on anybody's product Find out if they're about integrity or 'bout a dollar Somebody gotta tell it like it is so Mr. Moye Came back to k** the villains and fill in the missing void Sorry to disappoint those who didn't miss the voice Continue ignoring me like normally there is a choice Let the rest rejoice.... (crowd cheers) Never test your boy, I keep liquid swords in my reservoir Metaphors, similes, double entendres The bars stay consistent as the Baltimore crime rate Slaughtering beats when I record report 'em deceased F*ck a critic, skins thicker than a Nautica fleece Got your girl on all fours, how about some hardcore Like a horny Nautica Thorn in a p**no release Got her performing for me while you wasting time in the studio Pretending to be some kind of king in a Coogi robe I undress beautiful ladies without the loot to show Quicker than a 60's hippie can have a doobie rolled Ask me to do a show, you better have the show deposit Or point promoters to the exit with the door revolving Now you can say it's good promotion for me, yada yada And this gone put me in the ranks with the hottest artists But before I am a rapper, I'm somebody's father And you always get what you paid for.... nada nada Yada yada The yada yada It's still Supastition, n***a