I got the tech in my lap in this stick in the trunk

Got that bitch calling on my phone, but I ain't trying to fuck

Pocket full of clumps like at the easy's on my feet

I'm a stompy one with style. Catch you black in industry

Nose bleed can't be red with the brick under the seat

Half a key, What the cost with the brand new me

Time passing by, so I jump in the Delorean

Everything is shy, Forget the flow with Solar Jorias

Eating shrimp, Preposter with the garlic

But a sauce, Copper Rollie for the fuck of it

And I don't wear a watch

Got my name in your mouth, How it tastes

Kicking the gut and hit you with the twist of fate

Twisting up a blunt and then I take it to the face

Cold the plug up on the phone and drop the shit me at this place (shit me at this place, shit me at this place)

You ain't ever sold no dope. you just a customer

Leaching off your parents don't make you a hustler

That to get your muscle up your pockets lookin' slim

You can fake it till you make it, but you come up by the end

Cold rummin' at Kurt Angle

Ankle like the option rooftops and watch him dangle

Hang on base feet, watch him drop and hit the streets

Ours, body hit the pay-vis, I retrain it from police

Hang on base feet, watch him drop and hit the streets