[Verse 1: Kool A.D.]
All I want is a house and some money to travel
A simple game putting letters together like Scrabble
Sisyphus's lesson crushing the rock into gravel
Which of us truly trust how they knocking the gavel?
Plus though I be floating around like I'm stocking the ammo
Tucking the Glock in the camo
Fuck it, I'm lost in the channels
Surfing on surfaces, cursing in cursive and shit
Hurdling hurdles and hares
And turtles aware of the circles and squares
To a certain degree
A person you certainly see
Is certainly, certainly me
Or whatever, Kool A.D.,
Till they pulling the curtain on me
I'm Erick Sermon, the generic version
Virtually not, but I'm Parrish too
Shut the fuck up, I'll embarrass you
Nah, don't care, I'm so careless my dude
Yes I'm aware I'm a fool
Sexy and arrogant too
Son and the heir to nothing in any apparent view
Thought I told you like once or twice you should stare into my raps like Pun once dared us to
And we did
Who do we kid?
Why do we do what we did when we did?
Ooh baby ooh baby shit
Groovy
You feel me?
Sit back, cold beverage, writing leverage
[Lakutis]
Coin cold
Sack of Juwan
Microphone slap it to (mom)
What kind of macking you on?
I’ve been popping
Groovy
You feel me?
Sit back, cold beverage, writing leverage
[Verse 2: Fat Tony]
You know me, I don’t need no introduction and shit
Girl screaming “Anthony Obi, hold me!”
Like she know me, she won’t quit
Already got one holding my arm in this
But I think I’m bout to add two to the list
And I just might add you if you equipped
With some good sense, and some good teeth
And feeling free like a loose leaf, single sheet
On the beat I’m crisp like a Pringle be
I’m on 34th Street like Kris Kringle be
Just little old merry me, unmerrily
Calling up my agent, flagrant
Nigga got me sleeping on the pavement
Why the fuck you think I made this wavelength?
Ain’t tryna live in my relative’s basement
It ain’t easy being meezy, when a measly
Hundred dollars lost can make a nigga queasy
I need my full fucking feezy
Ever since I got grown, left home
Been feeling all alone like fish a la carte, bitch this is the start
Of me being a meanie to you niggas seeming teeny
You stringy like some linguini, thinking that you can see me
That seemingly might be easy but you’re quite beneath me
You’re stinky like a queef be
From a bitch that hasn’t washed for weeks
Hoes known to jock you geeks
Cause they think you so unique
But solely you’re phony and only phoning in when you speak
I’m going in on your freak, weekly and reeking of weed
Sweetly I’m sealing the deed, revealing just what she need
Like honey to bees or chickens to feed
Or money to me or A/C to a hundred degrees
I smoke nothing but trees, you are nothing to me
And while you’re living in dreams I’m reeling in reality
[Verse 3: Nasty Nigel]
59 pounds on the Eurostar in France
Business Class feature Sauvignon in the glass
I don’t know French Lucy teach it when she speak
I study in the bed and I only learned “Oui!"
Swimmies in the duffle cause I’m tryna hit the beach
And I’m tired of the Rockaways, too ugly for my feet
No room for devices, leave it at the beep
The only thing magnetic is the hotel key
So baby don’t tell me that we living next week
Cause I’m feeling this week, life is feeling this sweet
What type of feeling this be? what kind of strain is this weed?
I know you understand me since we’re on the same beat
You can hear the foreign silence ringin as I pen this verse
Moleskine with the Star Wars cover, Peroni quench the thirst
I ain’t about shit cause I recycle my outfits
Dawg, I’m walking on the outskirts of a country unknown
5 Euros a six-pack; Victor is you with that?
My eyes rolled to the top, drop while I sit back
World’s Fair globe trotter popping on a greater scale
In the end might leave it all, that’s word to Christian Bale (Spoiler)
All I want is a house and some money to travel
A simple game putting letters together like Scrabble
Sisyphus's lesson crushing the rock into gravel
Which of us truly trust how they knocking the gavel?
Plus though I be floating around like I'm stocking the ammo
Tucking the Glock in the camo
Fuck it, I'm lost in the channels
Surfing on surfaces, cursing in cursive and shit
Hurdling hurdles and hares
And turtles aware of the circles and squares
To a certain degree
A person you certainly see
Is certainly, certainly me
Or whatever, Kool A.D.,
Till they pulling the curtain on me
I'm Erick Sermon, the generic version
Virtually not, but I'm Parrish too
Shut the fuck up, I'll embarrass you
Nah, don't care, I'm so careless my dude
Yes I'm aware I'm a fool
Sexy and arrogant too
Son and the heir to nothing in any apparent view
Thought I told you like once or twice you should stare into my raps like Pun once dared us to
And we did
Who do we kid?
Why do we do what we did when we did?
Ooh baby ooh baby shit
Groovy
You feel me?
Sit back, cold beverage, writing leverage
[Lakutis]
Coin cold
Sack of Juwan
Microphone slap it to (mom)
What kind of macking you on?
I’ve been popping
Groovy
You feel me?
Sit back, cold beverage, writing leverage
[Verse 2: Fat Tony]
You know me, I don’t need no introduction and shit
Girl screaming “Anthony Obi, hold me!”
Like she know me, she won’t quit
Already got one holding my arm in this
But I think I’m bout to add two to the list
And I just might add you if you equipped
With some good sense, and some good teeth
And feeling free like a loose leaf, single sheet
On the beat I’m crisp like a Pringle be
I’m on 34th Street like Kris Kringle be
Just little old merry me, unmerrily
Calling up my agent, flagrant
Nigga got me sleeping on the pavement
Why the fuck you think I made this wavelength?
Ain’t tryna live in my relative’s basement
It ain’t easy being meezy, when a measly
Hundred dollars lost can make a nigga queasy
I need my full fucking feezy
Ever since I got grown, left home
Been feeling all alone like fish a la carte, bitch this is the start
Of me being a meanie to you niggas seeming teeny
You stringy like some linguini, thinking that you can see me
That seemingly might be easy but you’re quite beneath me
You’re stinky like a queef be
From a bitch that hasn’t washed for weeks
Hoes known to jock you geeks
Cause they think you so unique
But solely you’re phony and only phoning in when you speak
I’m going in on your freak, weekly and reeking of weed
Sweetly I’m sealing the deed, revealing just what she need
Like honey to bees or chickens to feed
Or money to me or A/C to a hundred degrees
I smoke nothing but trees, you are nothing to me
And while you’re living in dreams I’m reeling in reality
[Verse 3: Nasty Nigel]
59 pounds on the Eurostar in France
Business Class feature Sauvignon in the glass
I don’t know French Lucy teach it when she speak
I study in the bed and I only learned “Oui!"
Swimmies in the duffle cause I’m tryna hit the beach
And I’m tired of the Rockaways, too ugly for my feet
No room for devices, leave it at the beep
The only thing magnetic is the hotel key
So baby don’t tell me that we living next week
Cause I’m feeling this week, life is feeling this sweet
What type of feeling this be? what kind of strain is this weed?
I know you understand me since we’re on the same beat
You can hear the foreign silence ringin as I pen this verse
Moleskine with the Star Wars cover, Peroni quench the thirst
I ain’t about shit cause I recycle my outfits
Dawg, I’m walking on the outskirts of a country unknown
5 Euros a six-pack; Victor is you with that?
My eyes rolled to the top, drop while I sit back
World’s Fair globe trotter popping on a greater scale
In the end might leave it all, that’s word to Christian Bale (Spoiler)
( Hot Sugar )
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