Meadow High

[Intro]
(plays artist beat tag)

[Verse 1]
It's been about 3 months since y'all last had real music
About 3 months since I dropped Strawberry Milk
Coincidence, man I don't think likely
Either I'm talking about myself or I just had perfect timing
What you think? FatherTime's a deadbeat
So that second option kind of sort of gone out the window
Suge Knight, hanging out the window
Ron Brown, jumping out the window
I'm more alien than Roger, so I guess y'all won't get that 10-4
Back in high school, niggas rolled dope with Lindo
And now I'm looking dope with my average lenses on
And my girl, I mean, I wish she was my girl
But ol' girl got them Zebra Cakes, I mean like, ol' girl got them Zebra Cakes
Said ol' girl got them Zebra Cakes, and y'all niggas still fake
Took an x-ray and found cubic zirconium up in your poundcake
Northern niggas wanna take the flow south
And Southern niggas all wanna rap like Jeezy, Gotti, or Drake
And ya whole life's a drama, rerunning the days of your lives
You only listen to the Queen Bee, can't break from the Hive
Kissing on ol' girl, see your lips got hives
I'm glad a trill nigga made it out on time
I'm glad the whole world exposed the truth for a lie
'Cus a lot of real jiggas just doing time, 'cus a groupie bit the truth and told a lie

[Verse 2]
Won't even let your feet warm on the beat from the coldness I'm giving
So quick to change like Mystique but my attitude's frigid
I know I'm bound to blow, with this propane that I'm spittin'
Hitting on your chick like pool sticks, nothing but disrespect up in our sentence
We make a pimp take notes on how I'm perplexing the system
Stroking and flexing these words, with my tongue
Like a ho with a private dentistry, A vow of silence really ain't fitting me
I just talk on what needs to be said
I want head in a comfortable bed
'Cus I'm below brick, like where the boulders they meet
Got youngin's under 16, tryna spit a 16 so they can eat
Je m'appelle ours panda, what about you?
Oh, you a cheetah, that's a crime like where I'm from
That deserves excommunication, like Napoleon Bonaparte, before he rose back to greatness
I'm like Amelia Earhart over the Bermuda Triangle, 'cus y'all can't get my angle

[Poetry Verse: Na'Cha Saeed]