Letras
You learn a new trade, now you think you could preach at mass
Throw on a suit, and now you ready to teach a class
Joke's on you, odd thing is I can't even laugh
Cause when I made 100 thousand dollars, all I seen was half
I was a Grade A student, making the teachers mad
You could say however you feel, won't speak to me like that
The "SMD's, Promethazine, the fukumean's?"
No matter how many times you been stabbed, you ain't cut like me
My platform ain't for helping you get a point made
That's not my kind of assist, reminisce of a point shave
Took a break, why does it feel like I have point game?
Gave it all I got, my fans closer than point blank
They scream my name when I arrive with hi and byes
Yeah I got receipts for the times, but I don't itemize
You can't make it with counterfeits, I monopolize
Birds of a feather flock together, you Niggas' ostracized
I learned to pocket mine and stay away from dotted lines
They can't fuck with my courses they just a side of fries
And since you only feel successful if the world watching
Hope the iPad's and iPhone's help you see eye to eye
A lotta lies been surfacing, shit is worldwide
Niggas ask me how my bitch feeling, I say "my girl fine"
Can't be amateur with the liquor, you nearly hurled wine
Declining blunts that got too much Grabba, that's like the 3rd time
Interrupting my convos cause they remember me
Weed is helping me to release, it's muscle memory
They fuck with how I style with the pen, it's not Calligraphy
Epitome of keeping it down, so match my energy
Eris man, you always this brief?
Hehe, why you ask?
Attempting to poke holes in the story wearing a hockey mask
They know the zip stink 'fore it's opened, it's like a body bag
Yeah I used to bust a few chops just like karate class
I don't think I'm big time or nothin'
Baby, the rhymes keep coming
I could recline in comfort
I'm on a call
Which one's decline, I can't find the button
Safe's in the back
It's hammer-time if you try to touch it
Clean, but my mind is cluttered
No I'm not God, but I know I remind you of 'em
I'm Mel Gibson, quick to crop when them signs discovered
"Nigga I'm trying" won't cut it
Closed mouths don't get fed and they dying of hunger
The time is Dublin