(Intro: Wayne J)
Haha
A lot of these niggas in the DMV ain't really, you know... lyrical like that so..
I gotta kinda, do somethin different
And...
I reached out to my nigga chris
And I was like yo...
Eay let's show em how lyrical we can be so... he took it
(Verse 1: Wayne J)
I'm influenced by this rap shit
Just being honest word to common
Quote the caption
I'm livin out my life
Second guessin bout perception
I found a missing link
So i guess I'm well connected
I'm young black and feeble
I'm conscious to the people
Confused about the world
And why everybody's deceitful
They talk about success
And proof is in your fans
These niggas also jealous
And hated you a chance
Poetic justice etiquette
Jottin down this synonym
They hope i make it
But i keep myself sedated
I said i'll never change
But who the fuck I'm kiddin
I went from being shy
To a confident mind that's timid
Removed from all my friends
Cuz conversations waste time
I'm missing precious moments
Just for a baseline
Or waste time
And I can't even spare a second
Subliminal message
Til they call me poetic
W/ these triple entendres...
(Hook: J. Cole)
(Verse 2: Wayne J)
A lyrical slaughter
They tell me what a tragedy
A serious marter
HipHop is takin casualties
Man what a travesty
I'm screamin off analogies
No competition
So we living off conditions
Obnoxious spendin
Til we over draftin our limit
Our drive is always tinted
Ambitions always rented
Like a mother fucker
And tell me why we can't evolve to nothin
The media caters
Demandin public ratings
I'd sell myselves for sure
Just to sign off all the waivers
This Hypocritical status
Asking jesus for a favor
It's beneficial right now
Allow me to recite myself
A perfect picture
Just to taint a perfect mirror
Our self esteem embellished
What you can't display in pictures
My stance is monumental
The trust is well established
We havin separate issues
But too civil to be a felon
So think about your family
And how this nigga ain't even worth it mother fucker
(Hook: J. Cole)
(Verse 3: Space Jones)
Rap game trash bruh..
Turn off ya monitors
Hypocitical philosophers
Colombine to the copiers
Floatin on emotions
Lyrically bust trojans
But i don't give fuck
Cuz The competition is bogus
Kill the track A$ap
No time for the voguin'
New broads stepped in
They could smell the ambition on us
Tried to detour us
But I got a can of that new pussy smell
So you really can't stop my grind
I got paid for a bad job
But Never made a cent on my good shit
Ironically
I'm back on my hood shit..
But They don't want the real
That shit make em feel bad
Her confidence way up
Cuz her fake ass, real fat
And he, feelin it
Cuz her fake ass, feels fat
But ain't nobody got time for that shit
Cuz its real wack
My symptom imagery
Brings synergy
On this collaboration
I take seriously