Rokamouth - FromdaTomb$ lyrics

[Produced By Chuck Strangers] [Scratches By Statik Selektah] [Intro] (Go Brooklyn) Said what it's like? Joey Bad and Chuck Strangers Leave n***as endangered It's the real, yo what's the word word? Pa** the herbs Check [Verse 1: Joey Bada$$] My man Dirty had the buddha just to put me in my right mind I rhyme stoned, drop j**els and bright lines Sight dimes wit' slight closed eyes, I'm slight soba Ma you ain't that girl at giving throat so bye F it I'm bi-po-la, took shorty to the backroom Play charades, she actin like a vacuum Showed her to the door before the afternoon She fell hard on the floor, so you know that she'll be back soon Fake MC's get their reps ruined Young villain hop up on the track then the track doomed Click-clack-boom, resurrecting Boom-Bap from the tombs Raps dope like crack in cocoons Back in this mood, back on the move It's the motherf**ing real, n***a chill act cool Pay respect to the cat Drew And I'm way too blessed to be throwing shots at you [Hook: Rokamouth] Big ups to Brooklyn, home of the realest Big ups to Brooklyn, home of the era [Verse 2: Chuck Strangers] I'm tryna find my own lane, in this freeway of life Just remember home boy there ain't no free way to life My n***a it's gon cost you, try not to lose your soul To the rims, hoes, and gold Cause once the devil grab hold, that n***a ain't letting go And I'm far from religious, I just know right and wrong I know how to write these songs, I know how to light these bongs I know how to rip thongs and I'm pretty good at beer pong n***a, I'm so crazy, n***a I'm loco Ga**ed up like Sunoco, press the pedal through the floor b**h we out the door, Vroom vroom skuuurrt b**h love don't live here no more Cause her weave look faker than her Louie bag Weak chick I tried to bag, had the nerve to turn me down Heard this song and turned around Now she want me to unzip her pants But I'm gone, b**h missed her chance [Hook] (x2) [Verse 3 : Joey Bada$$] I got sick of cla**, started making cla**ics Now all I really do is get the gra** lit and bust a**es I'm sure to blow like bust acid Puff, a**ist like Maravich, a true Maverick And I average above average on an average day Doing bad sh** bet you still can't pa** this And his teacher still pa** him Though they adolescents be addin' rappin' sessions over addin' lessons Like f** trigonometry, I'm trying to multiply monopolies Subtract some homies then divide the cheese Divide legs just to isosceles so my eyes can see through the E sh** on you hypotheses Hypocrisy after essence like apostrophes You can't stand here unless you pay a posture fee Part the cheese, head out the spot and leave A pile of G's for apology