(1st verse)
Aye yo it's Mr. Low-key you need to go see
the host by far a mostly o.t., with a brand new show but
you know how the flow be.
Cause when I swerve, you observe it closely
if you smoke trees, smoke more than an o-z.
Mix any kind of dope with me, you o-d.
You get the c-d, l-p c.o.d.
Poetry cause you to fully load the V.
Drop place to place be crazy over me.
Even different nationalities, over seas.
However do a don't emcee, you know me. G-o-d.
She know she d-o-e, so show me.
Even with no jewelry she call me goldie,
like a Jacuzzi she overheat an o-g.
Like sushi swimin' in a open sea. I'm comin'.
(Instrumental Chorus)
(2nd verse)
She said it's the same since I came and rained it's still hard.
You can stimulate the brain, feel the god.
It's hard to go against the grain, it's real large.
Drive'em insane leave dames in silk bras.
Plus real cups spill, spill that bars.
What's the deal kids with Hennessey grills they feel charged.
And you know what time it is? It's still Ra's.
When I do a show real far they steal cars.
Stages of battle field reveal your scars.
Train hard, cause this is a game with ill squads.
Play with pain and gain a couple of yards.
And if you know the dreal, you can deal the cards.
And appeal to broads with jobs and ov-e-ods.
Body parts like buns of steel and spa's.
Then we can kick tha blahzay blah, smoke a cigar.
While I get ma-na-massage.
I'm comin'.
(Instrumental Chorus)
(3rd verse)
From the inner city to the suburbs, the street poet.
The most jiggiest kid with words, and peeps know it.
They've read about it and heard, plus t.v. show it. -ac
