P. Soul - Triple Double Trouble lyrics

[verse 1: Victor] Okay it's VividVic, v-i-v-i-d-v-i-c Moses in this b**h i'm parting up my red sea, oh wee You little n***as can't lead me I'm f**ing up a Colt like my name Drew Brees how sweet Tell me how you wanna hear it done Should I make the flow complex, or just have a little fun? I don't know, in my notes i'm a Rev. Run So let me preach a little bit before this beat is done Wait, these days they just say the sh** to be the sh** They'll end a n***a life for what he got on his wrist Or what he got on his chain, heavy ice on his neck They gon' make that sh** spray Just to f** up a check He should've had him a tech sh**, at least he could shoot back, but hey Life is a b**h right now her p**y is wack But enough about that I'm just here for the racks The messiah is back I am the king of this rap Of course these are all facts Need me a curly hair jawn, with some beautiful skin Make sure her booty is fat, make sure her checkbook intact Cause I cannot file her tax Oh my god, shawty relax Bank account on multiple zeroes I'm really sorry that I cannot be your hero No Iron man, Wolverine, or Spiderman here I know your marvel at my lovely little wordplay there The way I do it, Nike ain't tellin' me sh** This that ghosty rap just to dwell in yall midst Here's the jist, I got these n***as tensed up like a fist I got a list of all the MC's that I'm gonna shift f** a hook I'm going straight through with it Jumping over these n***as kangaroo with it Don't you throw no curveballs cause my glove fitted You must be dimwitted, f** around and leave a n***a Bed ridden, no kidding I got a whole block of n***as with trigger fingers that's itching That's Laurelton n***a, 1907 and I'm here Spitting facts like a mo' f**ing reverend man [outro] Don't you f** with me, don't you f** with me And I'm here spitting facts like a mother f**ing reverend man P. Soul, what's good? Crafters