Déja vu.

[Intro: Remy Banks]
You know what I'm saying?
I just...I just don't want nobody to loop this shit
Hate when niggas be trying to take seconds from nigga's shit and loop that shit...
Like nah bro
Not leaving no space...
This is not yours...at all
Hahaha
At all
Look, listen

[Verse 1: Remy Banks]
The power I possess
Instilled fear that was teeth chattering
I be in my chambers, cookin like merlin
This magic the gathering
Float down the block in a G Wagon
Smoking like dragons do
Bass so loud you can feel the earth shattering
Core rattling too
Leading scorer, Banks be the captain
Fuck what you averaging
I read your manuscript
To summarize
You soft as a Madeline
You wasn't built for this
The art of breaking down units to fragments
Dawg I been mastered it
Movements was staggering
No room for squares at my round table
You ain’t in tune, keep it spacial
The whole team graceful
Been loyal since the cradle
Hit the blunt 4 times, twist the mind like a dreidel
Accepting truths while deciphering fables
Cause every angle be different
Them Terracotta painted villas in my vision
Sicilian countryside
Steaming L’s like etna off in the distance
I ain’t Neo…
All this was destined though
The matrix ain’t glitchin
It feel like Deja Vu, you keep seeing me winning
I know it’s Sickening

[Interlude: Reni Santelises]
We back outside Rem
They counted us out again
And all we did was keep giving styles for them to run with
Nowadays it’s hard to know who’s real when everyone got smiling faces
I be feeling like the devils in disguise and he, she, or they come in different shapes, sizes, and races
And it always be the same type of people that won’t commend you in public
Because it’s from their guilt how they spoke about you in private
When it comes to loyalty, stay solid
When it comes to morals, be honest
Life’s a bitch but keep grindin’
So keep grinding my nigga

[Verse 2: Remy Banks]
Let the loop spin
No 808’s but the shit kick
The right amount of bounce a nigga need
Now In my zone with the blunt lit
Remy Banks a household name like a Ruth’s Chris
Always talked about but never in the mix
Tryna make this paper hand over fist
These lil duns
Thinking they big
But really like Mighty Max
Bent outta shape cause I be stating facts
Running with the style, need to pay a tax
Till my pockets on glutton
Turn my back soon as I hear em frontin’
Acting like they got a palm full of gold
But on the other hand, they really holding nothing
See right through the bluffin’ like casa je vidro
Money plays on the line, net that like a free throw
Just being me built the cash flow
In Beverly Hills in a slant nose 911 turbo looking like chico
With my dawg Benji Madden
Swerving through traffic
Like we got a cheat code
Blastin’ faneto
I’m out yo