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PERFORMING ARTISTS
Malz Monday
Malz Monday
Performer
Jamal Reid
Jamal Reid
Performer
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Jamal Reid
Jamal Reid
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Malz Monday
Malz Monday
Producer

Στίχοι

No, I'm not feelin' 'em, them bars not real enough You hear the engine growlin', bitch, this ain't no four cylinder Malz killin' 'em, they on ten, but I'm on a million They all gilligans, niggas couldn't walk in my timberlands Don't give a man a fish, teach him how to be a fisherman I been in the kitchen whippin', three-star michelin' Yeah, he on that shit again Don't compare me 'less it's b.i.g Pac, hov, nas, and eminem Nothin' like them other rappers, it's too many of 'em I'm a legend, gotta treat me like the seventh wonder Doin' numbers, i just pullеd up in a yellow hummer Came up еatin' wonder bread, but nowadays the bread do wonders Yo, you know that nigga Malz, yeah He spit the raw got the game locked in a figure-four He gon' k!ll 'em all Flip the work, get it off, ain't built for this, don't get involved They tried to knock me down, but I stood tall 'cause my will is strong Willis, what you talkin' 'bout? I'm for the cash, not for the clout Point your favorite rapper out, he play with me, I'm walkin' down Claimin' you a boss, you just a middleman that's on allowance Niggas wildin' tryna sleep on me, they know I'm valid They never heard us steppin', but they finna learn a lesson I'm the type to use the microphone like it's a murder weapon We was raised in a certain section since the adolescence On the corner drinkin' quarter waters, actin' reckless That dog in him, the illest since earl simmons Globetrottin' the earth, on my finger, the world spinnin' In the booth got me feelin' like I'm popeye off the spinach Mayweather with the winnings, my record don't got a blemish, uh Good enough is not enough, I need that guala pilin' up Fuck the poverty, need my pockets on hippopotamus Propaganda turned the whole populous to apocalypse I would say i'm the best but that would be statin' the obvious Fuck bein' modest, yeah, we got this shit on lock Yeah, we came from the bottom, bitch, but now we chill on top Flexin' for my ancestors, we no longer pickin' crops In the back of restaurants havin' dinner like the mob, uh Yeah, they tried to count us out, but now we doin' numbers, bitch I been grindin' all winter just to have the summer lit Somersault, make the money flip, do a double shift Went and got a bag and I won't fumble it Look, I robbed Peter to pay poor Then hit a lick on poor, yeah, I ran off with it all When they ask you who the greatest, let 'em know his name is Malz I wanna see my face painted as a mural on them walls I was gon' stop here, but fuck it, I'ma give 'em more I'm the same when no one's lookin' and when the cameras on Add the baking soda, drop it in the pot, they know it's raw I been cookin' up that shit that'll give you a crooked jaw, uh Never made the honor roll, I just marijuana roll And still winnin', they can't understand it like desiigner's flow When it come to currency, I'm like a connoisseur On a horse, towards the sunset is where I'm ridin' off Rappers buyin' chains on layaway, that ain't the player way Shout out to the legends that came before me and paved the way I see plenty come and go, but look, I'm here to stay I'm really the one and that shit clear as day, let's go
Writer(s): Jamal Coke Reid Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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