I speak to the trap lords
And niggas wit' they hands in the white like blackboards
I done been blackballed and never gave a fuck
...Cause I'm Jack Frost, I'm sellin' that
I'm on a crash course when talent meets timin'
Christopher Wallace, think big
Now it's Murder Was the Case, homie
I'm watchin' this three-ring circus
All lions gon' roar, so the clowns ain't nervous
Even you fools serve purpose
Let 'em run amok until the king resurface
...Then it's off wit' your heads
Wear your little jewels, you can't floss when you dead
They take samples of 'em, I make examples of 'em
It's the thrill of the hunt, I keep my mantle covered
Ask 'Ye whose royalty's more realer
Ask P. who's cold as a drug dealer
Me and Timb is comin', it's gon' kill 'em
The only great I ain't made better was J. Dilla
Now we breakin' new ground
Get ready for the placin' of the crown, King Push, nigga
I bought a , but I'm still here
Yeah, that's two people who's runnin', but I'm still here
I didn't know why you doin' this, loc
You ain't , but we still right here
You want to be like them, don't you, huh?
You matter like them?