Brokeland.

Verse 1:
It's Brooklyn nigga
Pop shit get your shit tookin nigga
Runnin round with more thieves than Robin Hood
More keys than Khaled's hood
Fuck Master P
To girls I'm Romeo
Shake ya spear I kill all of y'all
New rappers
Just on cue rappers
I pick apart your hue rappers
Don't that shit sound new rappers?
Attack your family
Have them dressed in all black
Well not for long cuz when my sun come
You gon change back
Your shawty used up like some Biggie instrumentals
Pulled her head back opened up she had my kiddies in her dental
Mistaken for Satan
I'm the fallen angel
Better make like magicians
Kross and Cris Angel
Picking angles
I run with thugs
Bust slugs
And burn it on em
I bang on shawtys
Recalling calls when I phoned it on them
Don't fuck with Savvy
The nigga missing screws like
Metal tables
Lay my tape on the shits
Let it burn like usher Raymond
Peasants can't knock my royalty
You talking blood you know it's me
Buy a body bag I'll help you out and pay the shipping fee
Try to impede
You get your spleen
Cooked and ravished
Plastic be these emcees
Please back up
I blast this
Ignite my energy
Then foes explode with sympathy
Simply
The greatest since Pac L and Biggie b
Figures that your crew steady running
They burning like Rasta blunts I leave your shawty C C coming
You must be buggin if you think that you fucking with me
You press record up on that shit all my enemies flee
Been a general
Literal god
Sending niggas to god
Word to foi
Shit I’m the savvy Allah
I never lie
Spitting truth
Whos the greatest emcees
The don
(Uh) savvy elite
Bashing brain in the streets
Trip you off ya feet
You landing head top
Better stop
Before you get Mac 10 from the block get your head chopped
Been a pre-teen demon
Now I’m believen
That those hb goons
Break even
Bitches be feenin
Been a don since the beginning
But we mother fucking started nigga
Leave your body carted on gourneys, ropes and we charging nigga
The bully armada
Get bitches to cha cha
Like Dram, Cardi, and Casper
Girl oou cooochie and Lala
JT he got me heated
Like the front of the blunt
Get your hand off my gun
I spare your life don’t run (uh)