My Paper

Nobody fuckin with my paper
Fuck school ima a rap major
Mad flavor, up on the track
Cuz when the boy hit the top they never sending him back

They never sending him back

Drop 90 dollars getchya 7 grams
Bag as they need. 140. Ina rubber band. Runnin the streets

Repeat 4 times. 340
Up In ya wallet
Throw 300s on it
The 28 that ya wanted

An'an Again with the dubs
240 profit is plenty
That's 2 studio hours and a flight to Miami

To see my girl again
Know the consumers ain't ya friends

Keep one eye on the crap
Pussy fuckers'll stab you right in the back
To jack. Ya whole stack
I know that it's wack

They tried to lock me up twice but I'm never goin back

Used to be. The lord of the streets
Now ima lord a the beats
Still in the game now
The shits important to me
They move accordin to me

Old homies that still respect
Manic he up and comin
The checks come next
Now bitches runnin

Im on some real knot coppin shit
Free spliff
Exchange under the bridge and than we dip
Ima free kid

Dabble in drugs, money, and drug money
Think that ya funny ya
If yatryna jack the paper you dummy
Think they can run me

They play me on a da.ily

Basis
I'm lookin for a rap oasis
When snitches ain't. Takin every payment
When we stackin bricks in the basement

The same shit
The whole time
Till the name Manic is famous
What am I. (Well)

Ya getting warmer
The dude who dishin baggies on the corner
The mad writer. The dope performer

The former
Employer
Of dufflebag boys
Now the ill rhyme deployer

[Hook]
Nobody fuckin with my paper
Fuck school ima a rap major
Mad flavor, up on the track
Cuz when the boy hit the top they never sending him back

Asa matter of fact

[Hook]
Nobody fuckin with my paper
Fuck school ima a rap major
Mad flavor, up on the track
Cuz when the boy hit the top they never sending him back

It's simple as that