Lyrics
(Yeah)
I'm in the coup leaning right like Sean Hannity
A Prince on the prowl for my Apollonia Vanity
Purple Label Ralph Lauren covers my anatomy
Smelling like the finest cabbage growing in the canopy
Oh can it be? Oh, oh, oh can it be?
The flow got you open
Got you floating like a manatee
Oh the humanity
I'm killing all my contemporaries and then pleading temporary insanity
This sounds like the Westside Highway
Summer time, top down, driving on a Friday
Fresh paint job, car parked in the driveway
White wifebeater on, chillin on the fire escape
These dope vibes make my eyes dilate
The bass from the box makes the block start ta vibrate
I'm so fly, haters so irate
Anyone who try ta violate
I annihilate
(Uh)
Furthermore, I'm all about commanding respect
See I'm from Queens but never was a fan of the Mets
And I'm all about expanding my check
You mad, I was in tha, van with your ex
With both hands on her breasts
Listen, I do this for your consideration
The latest iteration
New Yorkers have been patient...ly waiting
For their reign to end and for your precipitation
Plus a little more sophistication
As long as I record this in the basement
I'll be underground until my corpse is in the pavement
No flattery and any form of imitation
Wanna battle me? Well here's a formal invitation
Peep the implications of what I'm saying to ya
Get it through your thick skull don't make me go explain it to ya
Like your morning paper everyday I bring it to ya
Lyrical lullaby, every night I sing it to ya