25

[Verse 1]
Hol' up, homie, is this bad to begin your business with?
Making music for intelligent minds and the intricate
Tried to tweak the beat that gate released, indeed I sent the kit
Threw a bus, compress lyrically for all my production purposes
Trust me, I will ride for my syndicate
Only twenty minutes left on my clock
Before I gotta crawl out of bed again, so please, father
We harbor hatred in our hearts, never had another perspective
I've always ref from dark, this my orbit
Since solace appeared before me, just hear my story
Little niggas with dreams of being Shawn and Corey
But maybe not your idol, but I don't mind, my eyes are fine
See through projections of life, in pursuit of the idle mind
I pushed it to the threshold
Despite my failed attempts to make popular manifesto
What's the problem, I was only average?
Two years later now I'm zombie status
Passporters on the passenger, pussy flooded my palace
Pussy all on my palate, niggas still talking challenge
I'm Erick Morales, knock yo pineal off balance
Whether music or the bank, you gonna lose some interest
But for now to be frank
I only think your listening for
Feelings for familiar faces when you see them
All you sipping, codeine
All your clothes, European
Either way I'm just losing interest
Rip yo doors off the hinges, don't need opinions
If they fake emotions like a stewardesses, Misses

[Hook x2]
Only God knows why y'all question my ability
Some days I feel like I was born in 1970
If I only knew better, If I wasn't programmed already
Show up late to party, too late to see the fall of confetti

[Verse 2]
Hol' up homie, is this
Stupid to be this honest?
I rap before the production, now niggas paying me homage
Drink 40s until I vomit, my niggas retrieve the comet
Pulled it right from the sky, that's what you do when you're God
If you talk shit, I reply, niggas don't know what the fuck they got
But the boy gon' bus it, never gon' trust it
Never gonna touch it if it's gon' die
Why try making a difference, when individuals ain't original?
Seen you niggas copy and pasting pieces from years ago
This ain't a miracle, I sacrificed my whole life for this shit
The whole world know I'm doggy, I feel like Michael Vick
ESPN for the men of men, women pretend to grin when they watching
The truth is, I give them no option
Pardon my pockets, pardon my cocky, partly a papi
Italian women, they love a nigga driving Ferrari
Stolen jalopy, go to poon javi
Don't want no molly, mami, the weed inspires the eye inside me
I be

[Hook x2]