Banana / Phone

[Intro:]
Yeah, yeah

[Chorus 1:]
Get this on camera the clip is bananas
I'm sending the smoke like I’m out in Havana
Got this here rap for your head like bandana
That flow is reloaded like Tony Montana
Heard that my shit ringing off in Miami
I pull up to Brooklyn, it's already fans
You know they loving this shit back in Hampden
I might fuck around and make me a band, damn

[Verse 1:]
Fuck y'all talking bout?
You know I love to punch in while you clocking out, yeah
Pull up and get tossed around, I got two spots now, I’m the talk of towns, yeah
She love Jenga, I knock it down
You know I'm all up in the box like Lost & Found, yeah
Funny how you try to cop the style, but you my son, you my foster child
I ain't having it, crack a fifth, pass the shit
I crafted this in Brooklyn & rapped to this, I mastered shit
I practiced, I'm back again
Don't give a fuck what your grade point average is
You can pass the lab, won't pass the kid
It ain't a Labrador, if I'mma bag your bitch
I never had Dior, cause the bag is thin
I need a supermax, bitch, I’m immaculate
You gotta-

[Chorus 1:]
Get this on camera the clip is bananas
I’m sending the smoke like I'm out in Havana
Got this here rap for your head like bandana
That flow is reloaded like Tony Montana
Heard that my shit ringing off in Miami
I pull up to Brooklyn, it’s already fans
You know they loving this shit back in Hampden
I might fuck around and make me a band, damn

[Verse 2:]
Looking at me two-faced, bitch I got two names
Feeling like Bruce Wayne
I don't hit the club but I'm up every Tuesday
All the way to Monday, cooking up a new wave
Did it back home, now everybody rapping
I ain't even mad, let my kids get active
Snapping antennas if your team want static
Trying to make a classic, they bump my practice

[phone]

[Verse 2:]
Nah, nah, nah, hold the fucking phone
H-h-how do you do it JR?
Yo, yeah, you are now bumping Hampden, Maine’s finest
It's a lotta long faces, beauty sleeping on your highness
And like a bumper sticker want to put that shit behind us
They couldn't be my pen pals but claim to be some writers
Okay, go off, I'm looking for a boss move
See the new heights so I'm reaching like Fox News, yeah
Who the fuck you tryin' talk to?
I'm me all the time, you hit the booth in a costume
And if a beat needs murder you know who to call
Keep the mind sharp just to stick you like a Voodoo doll
You boutta meet your maker, cue the Oompa Loompa songs
For doing something stupid while I'm stacking money stupid tall
Just a kid from the sticks chucking deuce
With concealed carry permits for this Dixon #2
I been mixing up the juice with a little hundred proof
Made the Winter fucking cruel, need a wicked Summer soon, yeah
At age five I was fucking cooling outside
All my chalk drawings were just wack rapper outlines
I'm a laboratory type of dude, you the couch kind
Your city got more people than my state on the south side, yeah
Okay... Maybe not, still wish a motherfucker would like a tabletop
Still busting shit out the blue like a naked cop
Turning off the celly, leave a message on the day this drops