V.1

Since knee high to a grasshopper,

Always knew I’d be on the top best Roster,

And I Got the code to this thing like a locker,

Drip dead fresh out the water like lobster,

Mobster mentality, don’t become a casualty,

Charge to a no limit soldier, on my master p,

Pass me the canvas D, Watch me make a Masterpiece,

And I own my masters Slave to no one never Master me,

Yeh! On God, it feel like I don’t get no respect,

So to keep me off ya head I go get me a check,

Find an open market then place my bet,

Let grow on the low while I race to the next,

Huddle with the team right before we make the play,

Any L is a lesson prep’n for another day,

Working it like magic, brooms rides on Jet,

Slide private with my vibe so she can ride me next, Yay!

V.2

All hail to the great-test, to slay tracks

I'm a take that, break that to frāg-mats,

Oops, fragmats maybè, I should say that,

Or take it and spell it out like Pat Sajack,

Cutting ties with you fakes switchblade that,

You’ll lie to my face but ion say jack,

Now you Prolly wonder why he say that?

Cause Your eyes give away you fake’en,

Hard to hear you from where front runners be,

I stepped up so your dirt is under me,

I swim with the sharks, you pharanna deep,

A samurai’s with the Pen-tech who’s sharp as me?

More than what meets the eye, this is just a glimpse,

Eat the remains of the pie and then leave the rest to them,

Rap God flow Feeling like ememim,

We are not the same or even a synonym,

I am out on a plank, only option sink or swim,

Let me pause for the saints to say I’m pleasing him,

This call that I’m on it is washed and atoned,

And I’m not on the phone so leave me alone,

V.3

Even tho the flow changed, still spyro with the flames,

If think it’s a game pull up witcha bars mane,

Work ya out like a train-er, Eat til I can’t burp,

You can smell This gas like it’s out the container.

Burn one I flip off the trees like a tumbler,

I’m an artic breeze stand close I’ll make you bundle up,

Dancing with wolves looking like the road runner bruh,

Commas need track shoes told y’all we run’em up!