T. Dlamini - Target Practice lyrics

[Intro: Teej, The Artist] Y'all ain't Ready Yeah, Teej Let's get it [Verse 1: Teej,The Artist] Let's get one thing straight I'm living life my way Headed to hell on the highway I don't follow the faith I don't follow anyone Twitter, Twitter Turning n***as into slaves f** society And conformity I'll make a milli And amaze n***as still tryna hate Critique everything that I say These n***as, they want me to fail They just f**ing motivate I don't really give a f**, son I don't really give a f**, son Wrote these bars on my Samsung Taking shots, no handgun [Hook: Teej, The Artist] Damn Target Practice This is Target Practice (Whoo!) Target Practice This is Target Practice Target Practice (brr-brr) This is Target Practice [Verse 2: Teej, The Artist] I'm a k**er I'ma k** it Working on these rhymes Tryna be the illest Tryna be the realest Tryna make you feel it I don't think you get it I think I've ascended To a higher level Little blue devil n***a, you ain't special I ain't on your schedule Whoa Drop my sh** by surprise, homie When I spit it's homicide, homie Got the number 45 on me Got their motherf**ing eyes on me n***as acting like a**holes Ab-Soul, they ain't abstract, son The rhymes I be spitting are Nasty They don't want me, to shine like a Blacksun [Bridge: Teej, The Artist] Let it drop for a second I come first, never second Y'all are just OK, B Y'all are just some babies In real life, we compadres But on the track, I gotta slay, B I really don't what to say to this Like... I'm supposed to be doing some back-up vocals and sh**, but like... (Clear my throat for a bit) I don't know what to say I don't know what to say [Verse 3: Teej, The Artist] Levitate, levitate, levitate Elevate my rhymes Up to heaven's gates I am not a saint Sinning everyday Now, I do not pray I have lost my way Y'all slept, double blue tick Now, I'm making chess moves, b**h Checkmate on the chess board Check, check, check, check for it Running this game, like a programmer Desiigning clothes. n***a, no panda This sh** popping, it's a club banger I don't f** with these contractors Adolescent is the clan IV, that's fam We been working on some mixtapes Keep it locked on the 'Gram. Damn [Hook: Teej, The Artist] Target Practice This is Target Practice Target Practice (brr-brr) This is Target Practice [Verse 4: Teej, The Artist] Man, a n***a just fifteen And my bars so pristine I wrote this sh** in like two days You know a n***a just don't play Got the juice. Concentrate They don't hear me, anyway f** around on the track I ain't really do jack I'm too lit, bonfire, Man I'm too Legit, like clothing brands And my clique sick, like Xhosa clans These n***as plain, like serif sans (Ah!) They glorify These whack n***as, I'm horrified They don't pay attention to these Real n***as, spitting more than fire [Outro: Teej, The Artist] Punchlines too sick Y'all can't stomach this sh** (Mumbles) I'ma mumble this sh** Cause it ain't gon' be on the track, though I'ma mumble, mumble, mumble Cause I can't Freestyle, though! I slay