T. Rose - No Hook lyrics

Young n***as run this sh** out here No hook Yeah, Sir Real J (Sir Real J.) I'm a District Maniac This tricked, spit sick wit ‘till I reign the track What type of game is that? The type with no aiming back Chilling with some trees, taking shots where Cheney at? Gazing at my pendants, and 80 grand benzes Through ray ban lenses, Jay has expenses I be, sick as an IV Try me and I'll bring you back to your senses Fall off, no but really fall off Got the hottest calling shots and we mocking molotovs And lob ‘em at all y'all. Halt or get hauled off To the altar, off and offered to the top dog I'm just kidding, I've been tripping in my Hollywood loft Sipping and swallow pink sh** by the bottle, tryna stall coughs Now I feel awfully different, can't stop from spitting off top Wait I meant getting off topic, let's get some tonic on rocks You tryna see stars, we scarred, still got that keyed arm From when I hit the heat hard When I hit you, you meet the ER. f** PR All you do is steel bars like it's rebar I've been under the impression, that's there's only this direction It's been non stop moving to the top slot section Onslaught in the booth, spitting automatic weapon So where is Charleton Heston? Cuz these beats need some protection Cuz I just f** em up, with that s**er punch upper-cut The ovens what I've become, because my heat be running up Like heat stroke, when the beat goes, a kilo got me Steve-O Got jaws I'm in beast mode, got pause I'm in Tivo My cause if for these folks, to see how I rewrote The status quo, an animal, I'm ill and there's no antidote Taking shots no cannon though, the hammer go, and damage foes Get Barry'd like Manilow- the mans below, the granite stone We a finite type, I'm the finest Finalist in the fight for finding life's finance Currently, my currency's been flowing with a current's speed It's surreal- wallet staying tighter than my rhyming. I'm signing off (T. Rose) [Y'all done f**ed up now, I've teamed up with a white boy] I'm already proven stupid but I'm boutta go dumb again Your b**h is like the end zone, watch a n***a run it in Masked up, all up in your crib like I'm your son and sh** Watch me peel a rapper, get it popping like some gum and sh** I be on that money sh**, racks over everything Trap life, whippin up the crack on the karosene Dick her good, wish she would ask for a wedding ring She can hit the door, like she out Christmas caroling Shout out to the Terapins, Chili f** da city up It ain't take a lot to beat the top, its like a titty f** I'm a bottle popper, you ciroc'ing out a sippy cup Made it rain on her, you was hating like "precipi-what"? n***a precipitate, you should get scrilla straight I be tryna pitch an 8th, you be tryna catch a date Got me on that pick a prize sh**, boutta catch a case Now you on that live or die sh** when this semi spray Boutta go in overdrive, these hoes of mine, are so in line, I work a b**h like over time, she's so a dime, I stroke behind, I broke her spine, I owe a fine, I told her I'm, I'm the coldest kind, patron wit lime, Damn Name another n***a cold as I I got bars, I'm bar codes Chips, cheese, I got nachos I stack lettuce, u got beef, I keep shells, tacos Chain the color of charcoal, b**h the color of lemonade If time is money, I'm an hour past, you n***as minute made, b**h