Hey, hey. . . What up, Term?
Uh-huh. . . and it go like
I'm just gonna let the beat ride out a little bit
You know what I mean?
Just so you can feel what I'm feeling
Alright, now that we on the same page
Alright, look. . . hey, hey
We be making that classic shit
Rapping on some Statik hits
Immaculate Mac'll spazz and laugh at all these average kids
Be with the baddest bitch
Style's so miraculous
And you heard me spit
But you don't even know the half of it
Keep it funky hungry like I need some money
Cheeky so my speech is funny
Own it like it's bees and honey
Tweedle-dee and dummy
Trying to take some Gs up from me
Yeah they hate me but they love me
I be sillier than putty
Motherfucker, y'all be shapeshifting
Hate spitting, but with them wack bars
Take pictures with 8 bitches, boy we some rap stars
Used to fuck around and just kick it in my backyard
Now I'm on the road, hitting shows with some bad broads
Me and Term be on that hip hop shit
Surprised this young one here know what real hip hop is
Everybody here be like, 'Oh, this my ish'
Hey yo Term, go on kick that shit
Listen my mellow the metal will turn you into jello
Claimin' that you peddle with mettle but never in the ghetto
Kill a fellow rapper, immaculate never will I settle
With a middle class budget cause buddy I get the cheddar
Scrape up you amateurs, babble on when I batter ya
Bakin' brownies with hash in 'em, bachelor who be smashin' them
Gucci wallet attractin' 'em hoochies always be flashin' them
Loosies yo I be stackin' 'em so really I'm imaginin'
The wax killer, with Mac Miller my rap's iller
Just ask spitter, for currency I'm a cash getter
I do a song with you homie and it's a great look
My shotty handle is Armani, they all on me
Call mami and twist her back out like origami
I pour Johnny Walker in my cup
Ever since a little pup
I knew me and Stat was gonna live it up
(Sicker than your average-- who's really the shit?)
(1-9-8-2. 1-9-rhymes-too.)
I'm better than good it sounds so
Now they mad they hating on him
Girlies be waitin' I'm skating a figure 8 up on 'em
Bitches be making me lemonade and cupcakes
Now you on my dick bitch, tell me how my nuts taste
And we like 'fuck jake', trying to get this puff cake
We bad boys for real, homie you trunk space
I'll put a body in a Maserati from the lottie
I'm packing y'all in, a Rottie mixed with the Dalai Lami
You mad I ain't as lame as you
Eating beats like some Asian food
Flowing that's uncontainable
Rooftop, amazing view
A million rappers in the game but I'mma make it soon
They spending money for me, now I'mma pay for you
Squash you like a tomato do
Burners while high will blaze at you
My mami take the pillow and bite it when I be lacin' it
It's undebateable
Roll around with a hater crew
Mac was born in '92 but he rhyme like he from '82
(Sicker than your average-- who's really the shit?)
(1-9-8-2. 1-9-rhymes-too)
(1982, the album coming soon, bitch!)