Yeah
Yes
We do this with no apology, Paul Wall, Termanology
With hands down one of the best, true, I gotta be
Fools running 'round here front, no, probably
While I'm breathing, all of my roses now, honor me
Boy, you still in the hood?
I be in the new spot
I go to the dealership, you be in the used lot
This is what separates me and you clearly
And one, two mic check one, two you hear me?
This is not a test, I mix it up with the best
If this was military, have medals all on my chest
Cory Penn in the flеsh and the talk never rеsts
When I could smack you like old boy did for far less
Do this for no clout, show you what it's all about
And for the record, you can keep my wife's name out your mouth
Do you wanna press charges with they ass off top?
And he kept it one hundred, my brother Ziploc
I gotta let 'em know
I gotta let 'em know
Paul Wall, baby
Ayy, ayy
Turn up the decibel and move back the decimal
I come through, times ten, epitome of professional
Eating a psilocybin edibles, smoking vegetables
Bag it up like some vegetables and split it like a sectional
Flow impeccable, every verse is a spectacle
Couldn't see me with spectacles, the Wall is impregnable
When you write your top five, make sure my name's legible
A walking NFT, my presence is collectible
The payments early, that means we on schedule
Actual factual, you keep it hypothetical
High evaluation, we the upper pedestal
CL and Statik, this a long way from Reginald
Quite incredible how I impress the skeptical
Fortitude intestinal, I'm thorough to the skeletal
The level that I'm on is inaccessible
My title's incontestable, so get of off my testicles
Said, it's magic
'Ology
Paul Wall, baby, CL
Here we go
I hit the booth like it's nothin', I got that stupid production
She in my coupe, then we f**n', I got her loose and she bustin'
I'm makin' loot with her cousins, they all loopy and thuggin'
'Cause I'm addicted to cash, the only boo I be cuffin'
And I be Blueberry puffin', them eggs be movin' in dozens
I don't have stupid discussions, I hold a Ruger, it's Russian
The homie Stat', he be diggin', he got that stupid percussion
I'm on that stoop with a Dutch and no, I ain't movin' for nothin'
You follow rules, it's disgusting, I just be do what I wantin'
Carry a tool like I'm huntin', I eat your food like a muffin
I really come from the hood, really come from the gutter
My daddy beat me up bad and I put that on my mother
Yeah, I'm truly a G, shining through your TV
When I be doing my thing, I charge a beautiful fee
In the coupe or a V, state troopers can see
They mad that I'm still shining, wanna shoot me for free
Making music with that Stat', told him, "Loop up a beat"
Pistol whip you in your mouth, have you chewing your teeth
Do the stallion dance, might shoot at your feet
Might bag a few grams, might move you a key
Always murdered the beat, every verse I release
Making bangers with Paul, now we 'bout to repeat
They say my p**s elite, from the pen' to the streets
Give me a pen and the pad, now pay attention, it's deep
This shit is magic
