We made a record in 3 years and for some strange reason it still sound like niggas just puffin blunts, drinkin 40s, learnin up in the studio and just sayin the first shit that come out they head.
My collector, my collector, my collector.
Yo, yo, boom and then bing bong, I came to riff, shoot my gif, but I don't have to puff on any spliff.
This is just a raw talent, you know my shit is gallant, when I type walk you know I never lose my balance.
On the microphone I be freezing, kids don't like her, I walk up home, you best have left me alone.
You know why I said you'll be caught in a funeral home, I got the type of style and you know where I come from.
Straight from the land of T is the capability to rack the microphone and be a ball in T.
Now many brothers think they can rip and follow me, but they can't and I say that they ain't cause I only went to the first grade.
You rack the microphone like a runaway slave, they used to call me Dave but now they call me Coacha.
I grab the microphone and then I climb a freaking boulder, on a freaking shoulder while the rhythm's getting older.
Just like I told ya, I'm from South Dakota, I used to live and climb on the hills and wash my clothes on the rock.
And now all I do is disjock, I gotta see the crowds jumping, I gotta see the crowd jumping.
Cause if they ain't doing that I feel my shit is wack, so I must attack, yo I must attack.
So I rise and tell, please help me, cause I'm about to slip down a hole and totally lose my trouble.
What's going on, what the fuck is going on, what's going on, what the fuck is going on.
I'm just like Speedy, I'm grippy with my whole type of feety, I rap for the needy, I got to get the meaty.
