Week 24

[Verse]
Come on
Poor and hungry
You probably heard this story from me
Little sis on the floor no porridge for her tummy
So I stuck up a store under the mask I wore
Then I went back and bought some food with the stores money
Poor and bummy the slums is a war-torn country
Cops are pigs with horns them wild boars hunt me
I'm in the street with the wolves I'm outdoors comfy
Fiends paying the workers they outsource monthly
Gorilla dong the city is going apeshit
I start rapping 'bout rapping just to escape shit
I built a stage in my room that shit was makeshift
To walk five steps on that bitch I couldn't take six
I mean I could've never take a break
Hit the pen and pad 'till my craft was advanced as a spaceship
My bed was on the floor
The floorboards where weak
Toss and turn in your sleep shit you wake up in the basement
They cut our lights off food in the kitchen spoiled
Borrowing electric from neighbors using extension cords
I put a seven-figure check on my vision board
Then I start working hard while I was wishing for it
Haters talking that bullshit I just ignored
But right about now I got time today cuz
Yeah pardon the auto-tune
Not Halloween but my goblins party with all the goons
I can't wear skinny jeans gotta give the llama room
Some of y'all been pussy since you hopped out your mama's Womb
Let the drama loom
Married to the Yoppa had the hopper broom
The streets sweeper's a keeper I'm the choppers groom
And the chopper got a zoom
I could knock a follicle size of a molecule off your collar when it's
Opportune
I'm just serving you birds with the words in my acapella
All of you birds 'cause birds of a feather flock together
I'm just cooking you bird serve 'em with mozzarella
Then I'ma hop in a drop Carrera that's hotter than Habanero
Nobody's real no more I don't even call 'em
So niggas I don't feel no more I caught 'em frauding
You think they the truth? Go ahead and polygraph 'em
After that don't attach them to Crooked 'cause y'all can have 'em Nah that ain't how a West Coast rider lives coast by your crib
Low rider rims toast by the ribs
They ask "Yo ain't so and so the goat with the flow?"
First of all his ghostwriter is
I've done seen some of the illest backpackers getting penned for
Seen some of the realest gangsta rappers getting sinned for
I don't judge 'em I just chill at the end store
Signing autographs for fans that's what I'm meant for
Bitch niggas on top of the game that's what messed it up
We don't Harvey Weinstein hoes these chicks molesting us
I'm from a era where everywhere nigga was vested up
Smith and Wesson your chest and gut then your head and you Dead as fuck
That's why I don't get in beef these internet killers in
I might get paranoid thinking the shit is real again
Psychotic thoughts I don't wanna feel again
That's why I keep my darkest thoughts in mental compartments That I conceal 'em in
You don't wanna see that villain introduced
I rather see stars chilling in the roof of the ceiling in the coupe
But I'm still real enough to lower the mic stand
Kaepernick style I'm kneeling in the booth
Giving them the truth