Alphabet Soup

[Intro]
One from the top
You know what it is
Promotin' that Heineken drink, haha
Th-The-The Evil Genius
Yeah
Green Lantern
Yeah, you know what it is already
South Queens, muh'fuckers
It's Aasim, muh'fuckers
It's The Dream, muh'fuckers

[Verse 1]
Uh, listen, monster menace, you morons should move on
The almighty, the grimy-gritty has moved on
Fools perform, you flim-flam fugazi
Forced a fella and feel the force from the fever
I cook it high Fahrenheit, you afraid of flavor
My whole foundation foresees you as a faker
You ain't, familiar with the feedback of yo' weak raps
I tear through ya fabric with a pitchfork, piss off
My faction all about them fractions
You frantic, on somе faggot shit, fraudulent embarrassment
Fivе out of five rappers feel like they
Holdin' matches up to the fire my pen writes
For charge we, eyes ain't got body
Flamboyant I flame-broil and fire fuckers chartin' me
But on the flipside, I'm plain and simple
With a mind frame similar to fleece in the winter
I seem as tenfold, the lyrical nympho
With physical info, the shit I done been through
On instrumentals with heaven sent flows
Bent as a motherfuckin' Heineken centerfolds

[Chorus]
One for the money, two for the bass
This is for them dudes locked way up state
One for the money, two for the bass
This is for my dudes fucked up and outta place
One for the money, two for the bass
This is for them dudes locked way up state
One for the money, two for the bass
This is for my dudes fucked up and outta place

[Verse 2]
Wave the flag, I tear shit down to a frag
Meant to be found in the sewers with truants and trash
Every movement is formula fittin' a king
Yet I'm the principal with students the rule boy is
South Queens you know that I'm about teams
Frustrated 'bout a lot, but I'll fight about things
Fix the game, returnin' back them rope chains and four fingers
A raw figure four, man, four horseman format
All that and then some, fair-skinned and handsome
Fair ones I shoot some, females I shoot some
Back to facilities where the faculties fuck some
Feeble on feet Fred and friends had enough from
The drunk of a dock concealers, eyes fresh out of the tailor
Sean John and eh, eh, it's on
February 4th Friday load up the guns
Bust one in the air, let 'em know where you from

[Chorus]
Check it, one for the money, two for the bass
This is for them dudes locked way up state
One for the money, two for the bass
This is for my dudes fucked up and outta place
One for the money, two for the bass
This is for them dudes locked way up state
One for the money, two for the bass