I Really Rap

[Intro: Dave East]
Huh?
What a day

[Verse 1: Dave East]
Fresh out the bookings, my mental thinkin’ about millions
Watchin’ for cameras, couples hammers we stashed in the building
Different, ain’t got no answers for me
Negative vibes in my circle feeling like cancer to me
Kidnap your daughter, we on her, go get that ransom for me
Connect from Indonesia, about his paper
I’ll date you later, ‘cause him don't need ya
Dope is amazing, it got him shakin’, look like a seizure
Bitch from Jamaica, they hatin’, fuck it, they in the bleachers
I’m startin' five, eyes open, just look alive
Go through my book of rhymes, you’ll see that I took my time
O.G. got that raw smell, Ivy League, no Cornell
Double cup with my sprite mix, transportin’ with a white chick
See the burrow with a perc' in me, pilot told me I'm a flight risk
Cross the border, got work with me, early morning plus night shift
Got a hit man, just make the call, he write the list
Side bitch got my wifey pissed, wanted an icey wrist since ‘96
But

[Bridge: J.R. Writer]
The real is back, how real is that?
Where them writtens you’ve written at? They chicken scratch
I don’t listen to silly cats with simple tracks
Who told you that they was feeling that, that shit is wack (huh?)

[Chorus: J.R. Writer]
I really rap, I really rap, (turn me up)
Yeah, I really rap
(Talk my shit) Don't compare me to nobody, my shit is crack

[Verse 2: J.R. Writer]
Look
In Harlem, I’m goody, your [?] was hoody
You play me just a little B, I’ma stomp you and boogie
I’m far from a rookie, don't disrespect it, and just expect it
Your girl gon’ throw the mouth piece until she get rejected
The kid’s selective and you reckless with them hoes you pick
She need to go get stitched, she doesn’t even know she hit
Expose you pricks and you hoes, you want a lift? The answer's no
I cut it short, I’m from New York, that slut can walk, Amber Rose
It ain’t hard to see I copped out on armory
D. Wade, Cavaliers, opt out, don't start with me
J.R. should be your idol, I ain’t your rival
And y’all ain’t fuckin’ with me, period, y’all need some Midol
Mind you, I’m in a room 'bout as high as the Eiffel
And it got so many views, it’s about to go viral
I should advise you, I’m tuckin’ the semi
Settin’ up shop just to fuck with the city, who tusslin' with me
None of them, I’ma be ripping the mic til I’m hundred and twenty
Yeah, understand I rock, all these bands I clock
Fresh out the big shack and “Your man's not hot”
Fuck the plans y’all got, I will son y’all any day
Come brawl or you in the way, young boy this the NBA

[Chorus: J.R. Writer]
I really rap, I really rap
Yeah, I really rap
Don't compare me to nobody, my shit is crack