Wale - Cyphr lyrics

[Young Chris] Well it's the C from the R-O, the Polo a cargo The Murcielago, garage a car show The ‘matic is auto, suit ‘em up, hard-toe Hard-toe, get that through the wire like Marlo [Freeway] And so the wrist stay on glisten, the beats keep on ripping Touch me, dream, or y'all keep on skitzing It's the king of the flow-switching, I do it best Smif-N-Wes, right under the rest where the arm go [Wale] It's Mr. Need-an-Encore, J11 Concord You n***as is John Q., you don't have the heart for it Catch me out in Largo, showin' off my hard work Count so much bread, swear to God that my arm hurt [Young Chris] I, give ‘em the LV, fresh pair of lens and a nice belt I be in the women, swimming like Mike Phelps Young black distributor, did it with the white help Little bit of green, too, satisfy the fiends too [Freeway] Me too! I'm saying, bringing the banger right here I been hip-hop gaming, dropping bangers all year Freezer, bang that thang and end your singing career Hoes like it, fly private, do my thing in the air [Wale] Well, am I making it clear, or did I st-st-stutter Globetrotting is nothing, I'm living out of my luggage A neighborhood superstar, don't even hit the public Discovery channel tape us and swear the hood is a jungle [Young Chris] Motherf**er, they feed the R&B and let the rest starve Had to leave the old team like Brett Favre Comments hate, you f**ing hater, let the mag off Then watch ‘em turn to commentators like Bradshaw [Freeway] Rock stages, snatch wages, you can hate me or love me MTV-Unplug me and put me up with the greatest Lil' sweats, Louie specs, I put you up on the latest ‘Cause I made it, graduated to the Benz from the buggy [Wale] And we the freshest, they love, it, we the subject of discussion We can get it popping, brother, out in public, we ain't running I ain't playing, we ain't caring at all, Philly, we ready for war We bring it to ‘em, they Usain Bolt, gone [Beanie Sigel] If I don't come up to someone, Def might Jam but my gun don't I keep the 40 Glock with me I'll give the jockey on your ‘Lo shirt a wiggy You can keep the coke, papi, but the dough coming with me I'm all about the Benjamins, baby, pockets Puffy Big Poppa of the Property, you got to love me Popped off if it's problems, we can do this publicly or in private However do you want it, B No problems do you want with me I put your body in that box so comfortably, church I lay a n***a six feet beneath earth While the preacher search the Bible for a verse, rest in peace State Prop, get your head popped I'm on my job in the hood like Young Bob giving headshots King of Philly, there's none before me and none to come I got it locked like the wig on Stunna's son