T. Smith - Coming Soon lyrics

[Produced by D-Lyt] [Verse 1: T. Smith] k**ing on this beat, piano in the background Made it to the top without even a Soundcloud These rappers are dumb, you're talking about you got loud Talking about you toting guns, but all you tote's a loud mouth Yeah we coming from the bottom, rolling up and down south Get it? Up and down south, spread it all around town Ask the neighbors, I'm dope as hell come smell it's that amazing Adderall's for adoration, zany bars for aspiration Candy bars, you rappers spitting candy bars no approbation For it, I'm touring through the belly of the beast Without my navigation, agitation building up my aggravation Just got my evaluation, doctor said I'm sick There's not a vaccination, Martian's verse is astronaut Zakk Scott, T-Smitty, freeing Willy back off Pack of dogs on my team we don't need a mascot Popping caps on these rappers we don't need a caps lock, uh [Verse 2: Zakk Scott] Me and Trevor Smith, we're products of the same struggle Circumstances earned us chances, voices that you can't muffle We're the ones you make chuckle rapping bout you hustling You trying to take the game? You better take a number b**h You can't f** with this that just be asking for trouble So either shut your lips or let me grab you a muzzle Because me and T we run this sh**, we be repping Palm Harbor We be like tsunamis, and competition's calm water Except that they got no allure, can't reel me in no fish bait Yet they stuck up on themselves, call them double-stick tape Maybe it's not right for me to dictate "this good, this ain't" But you're rapping like it's sixth grade dick face, quit playing these kid games Incompetent collaborations, nothing about you's fascinating All your beats and raps are basic and your words are fabrications Check your last location, why you rhyming like you street? Relying on the beat, why you lying on the beat? What you trying to achieve? Make us think you're so hood? I'd shoot for higher dreams, because we just think you're no good Constantly be spitting thug rap, f** that, you ain't moving bricks Stupid prick thinks saying doing it'll make his music sick Please try not to take this wrong but if you live in Sabal Palms I love to be the one say this: you're not a gangsta, dog! If all you cook is trap beats, and only say you pack heat I'm sorry but you're gonna have to be the rapper Zakk eats I'd make a joke about eating wrappers but Trevor already did Clever kids, yes we is, fresher than you ever been That's why we gon' drive Benzes while you lie about your benzos So homie stop pretending, get the memo? You're not ghetto I'd probably have some respect for you if you did something new But everything that comes from you, I never heard nothing true And if I'm not who you're bumping to when I get on, I'm Big Sean I don't f** with you