Journalist - When it Comes To This sh** lyrics

[Verse 1 - Journalist] Ay yo, its Journalist n***a even on my nicer days I heat you up spin you round, call me microwave Skate off like at an Ice Capade With the type of guage that bring the cops out like parades Leave your family in the triage, second guessin Graf artist, I'm good with sketchin weapons Leave emancipations for lacerations With bunks to gun a pump like I'm half Jamaican You know the flow fascinatin n***a I'm so sharp, when I walk I scratch the pavement I aim this gat right for your ways Then I go to your mom's house to give her all types of bouquets Or I can paralyze half of ya You don't wanna see your kids laugh at ya When they see you peein through a catheter However you want it, you can have it your way Capital J, and never use a gat for display [Chorus x2 - Journalist] When it comes to this sh** here Y'all the type to sit there I'm soon to rock that road, crotched in the big chair Studded up crown with forty below wristwear Prove y'all clowns couldn't f** with the flow this year [Verse 2 - Journalist] Ay yo, heres a few promises Turn y'all to vomitters With different types of heaters if the waste got thermometers n***as wanna climb with us Crazy World conglomerate Philadelphi dominant Comin through the monitors My chumps beat you like drums, quite severe Then I f** around and follow up, just like the snear I don't think you in the right career Maybe you should go back to cross dressin and them tight brazeers Cause y'all n***as ride mine, worryin bout my shine Stay on the sideline and work with the pom-poms Throw some rounds throw your arm or confetti your sleve When I'm in town, the sheriffs and the deputies leave n***a I ain't got respect for you please You ain't sittin on dough, you fallin off like sesame seeds Cause you can't bear pressure If you don't wear vestes Crime unit find you I hope they got air freshners [Chorus x2] [Verse 3 - Journalist] Yo when the gat is in my distance I have you datin fishes Your wive tears drippin on your graduation pictures Clutch Glocks and what not Rush spots, f** cops I got enough shots to get cuz' block dustmopped When I stop the beamer co*k the neener Blood'll pour to the pavement like its Aquafina Come out on bail, fallin up the cops' subpeana Come back around, send more shots between ya Bullets burnin up your femur Turn into screamers From uppercut swings of the permanent leaner Cause the guns I squeeze 'em If I shoot 'em just once like James Ingram Watch his brains leave him I'll be shinin my toys 'til the lost boys You rather see me sit in the can like Altoids Ock, I'm on the block, gettin narcs annoyed Pa**in out rocks like the Sixers ball boy Its Journ! [Chorus x2]