Lyrics
Kev Brown what up
Roddy Rod, Marshall Law what up
Sean Born, Eye-Q, Al Green, Quartermaine what up
Caliber, Oddisee what up
Hassaan Mack, yU, Slimkat, Kenwood what up
Cy Young, Early Reed what up
And to the younger soul brother Grap Luva, young Toine what up
And to the whole Low Budget what up
Battling my demons
Tryna grind even when it seems you’re defeated
Tryna find meaning in this green that I’m chiefin'
Like the smoke hold hidden messages
Know what it’s like to go cold, catch your second wind
Put the choke hold on those saying you would never win
All the while looking for a better blend
Wishin' I had a better set of friends to believe in
But it’s just me and them Low B niggas
And I’m low key sicker, was gonna be humble
But they wanna see me stumble like a Old E sipper
I’m a cold beast, that’s where I suppose we differ
I’m just tryna get my karma straight and voulez vous couche' avec moi
C’est soir with a fine lady marmalade
Doing what I do, they say Starr look like he fake
Nah I don’t respond to hate
Say what you want, I’m just tryna get my mama straight
Waitin' for the day my father get from out them iron gates
Used to rap more now a nigga conversate
I done found the pocket now a nigga gotta dominate
And when I get in beast mode
Call me Parker Lewis, can’t lose I got the cheat code
PG bred him and you see me reppin'
That 757 'cause I do it for my people
Off a fifth of the henn rock, they can relate to what my pen jot
They rather hate than give praise
Mention my name, you can hear a pen drop
Not itching for fame, I’m just tryna get props
Too much to ask for? Fuck it, I just rap more
Giving 'em a crash course, dozen and half bar
Type of spittin' that’ll have 'em sending in a task force
Giving 'em that vision that they listen to the track for
And this goes out to everybody that doubt
Runnin' they mouth and don’t know what they talkin' bout
Rest in peace to Jay Dee, let me talk it out
They say word, K.B. came across a style
That make herb ass niggas wanna toss they towel
And keep it movin' like a foster child that’s half gypsy
To emcees I’m like ten feet, they half pygmy
The other half pip squeak, I’m a flask of jack whiskey
To bad kidneys, shut it down fast quickly
So whoever wanna cross us now, if you that dizzy
Come up off it pal, I get that busy
Been in position to get offers now
Alotta subliminal disses gettin' tossed around
The backlash worst than Rosenberg when he bashed Nicki
We just tryna preserve culture
And if you counterproductive we shruggin' a cold shoulder
Off a fifth of the henn rock, they can relate to what my pen jot
They rather hate than give praise
Mention my name, you can hear a pen drop
Not itching for fame, I’m just tryna get props
Too much to ask for? Fuck it, I just rap more
Giving 'em a crash course, dozen and half bar
Type of spittin' that’ll have 'em sending in a task force
Giving 'em that vision that they listen to the track for
