Poe Pica**o - Immaculate lyrics

(Verse I) I'm a Brooklyn representee, since entry been #1 MC, I simply clutch cannon like MC cause men be, like snakes trying to tempt me, I send thee under soil bout ten feet, cement feet, underwater where the fish be, you can't breathe, due to jealousy and envy, scrutiny true indeed… He is so immaculate… Never friendly, befriend me, keep your distance bout ten feet, I'm ten deep, not denim but my men be in ten Jeep's, pure shooters like Kulinski, convince me, you don't want it evidently, we empty about a hundred like century, through entries of your windows, bullet holes through the cupboards and pantries… He is so immaculate… (Hook) Ok, lil' mama what's up/ok, fly lady what's up/ok, to my n***as what's up/ok, hustlas what's up/ok, drug dealer, what's up/ok, money maker what's up/ok, to my boosters what's up/what's up, what's up, what's up… (Verse II) And the money's supplementary, we simply split the profit like the Red Sea, we deadly, on the look out for the sentry, consequently any wrong move solitude in the penitentiary, but the 20's still roar like the Gatsby, wardrobe Dicaprio try your best to catch me, still over n***as heads flight attendee… He is so immaculate… Subsequently, it's in me to be driven in a Bentley, I indeed view my life elegantly, I fancy bad b**hes no panties, Basic Instinct entry, drinks complementary, they're on me, transactions never pending it's all free, on her body like Ambi she's all me, cause… He is so immaculate… (Hook) Ok, fly n***a what's up/ok, lil' homey what's up/ok, tag popper what's up/ok, gun runner what's up/ok, big spender, what's up/ok, all my strippers what's up/ok, all my smokers what's up/what's up, what's up, what's up… (Verse III) And my talent just immensely, cements me as a Force like MD, I gently give signal then my men squeeze at any adversary that potentially conspires against me, no suppressors when it wets you like Screech; like Fit Club Celebrity, tires or a banshee, given halo's like B so angelically… He is so immaculate… The young male Maya Angie, my pen be just as bad as Meyer Lansky or Bugsy, catch me in a teddy bear tee or rugby, bug me I get antsy then ugly, all the smiling and the joke seize abruptly, hidden right under the car seat, disrupt me, armed with hammers within arms reach, so trust me, just chill B-Real like Cypress Hill my n***a… He is so immaculate… (Hook) Ok, New York what's up/ok, DMV what's up/ok, Chi-City what's up/ok, Californ what's up/ok, ATL what's up/ok, M.I. Yayo what's up/ok, Houston what's up/what's up, what's up, what's up…