Put the rap game on the crunch Blow the spot without warning
You get no chance to back down Put the rap game on the crunch
Blow the spot without warning You get no chance to back down
Hop off my Harley Davidson looking like I just got kicked with a cool stick
Cherry red boots, cigarette, they inaggravated
How come it's to this dirt road moonshine trailer trash trooper?
Every day's a party, happy belated
If you smoking marijuana with your mama at twelve
Then we either related or related in jail
Street gangs, stealing Hondas for them Asian gangs
Hopefully y 'all mean little sister will give me brains
That street cred for the uncredible nobodies
And my Bon Jovi looking like bitches so got it
Loud it, Catfish Billy is stoked, shout it
And I shined up the bow ties off that Vox body
And Alabama knows it, travel the world with my sling
Some of them don't get the slang but Alabama knows it
I'm sweaty funk, humidity punks, fishhook on the hat
Dirty Louisville bent, lips chapped, some country hard
Put the rap game on the crunch Blow the spot without warning
You get no chance to back down Put the rap game on the crunch
Blow the spot without warning You get no chance to back down
Ain't nobody fresher than him In depth with more pressure than him
Never mess with niggas whose image is skinny, stretchy denim
Just remember everyone who with me winners Everyone who with you dinner
Bitches switching quick as Bruce and Chrissy Jenner
Chrome rims on the whip just to shine on niggas
Black tires to look white, Tyrone Biggums
Giving out turkeys on Thanksgiving like Nino Withers
We be passing out TVs like Wendy Williams
All I know is that I'm no wild child
Y 'all don't want no smoke with these bars All y 'all niggas know is y 'all sound cloud
Hypothetically say I'm pissed I would definitely AR grip
I would definitely spray y 'all quick Y 'all expecting me to hesitate to shoot this bitch
Then y 'all are definitely in the playoffs with J .R. Smith
I would definitely put my hand in your pocket But not the way you want
I'll put your whole family in boxes like y 'all the Brady Bunch
Put the rap game on the crunch Blow the spot without warning
You get no chance to back down
Rap game on the crunch
Blow the spot without warning
You get no chance to back down
I go bananas, too miraculous, too reactive, mortal mammal
Cooking crack in my new velour pajamas
Getting back to my roots, rap where I store them hammers
Lord of grammar, my IQ's my IP for the panel
My IP address is my dressing drawer
I ain't stressing less it's war, I ain't session less it's more
I ain't bet you you'll die lesser, my iron's legend for regret and gore
Ghosts whiter than the driven snow, and it's headed north
Looking like it's 474, flows and metaphors
Buried skulls all over the globe like a stegosaurus
My rifle kick back when they get blazed in the sky
I'm a classic, I get dressed, playing the feminine
Don't do some shit to get your wife kidnapped
Had you on Twitter begging for your bitch back like Sage Gemini
While these niggas getting they hair dyed and they nails polished
I'm like Biggie and Pop trapped inside of Big L's body
I create and knock out your go -to's
Battling me's like fighting a gorilla in a phone booth
