[J.R. Writer]
Writer, nigga had the never to ask me where I've been at
What I've been up to, know what I told him?
Well umm, I'm still track merkin, crack servin, swervin, black Bourban
Get your ammo this Rambo the rap version
You cats hurtin, back burnin, that's certain
I'm ether, fuckin up more features than bad surgeons
Back to the streets, crack is the street
The producer should be payin me to rap on this beat
My swagger's elite, who slicker than J? Shit e'ryday
I walk around lookin like a window display
Kick to my shades, kick to Ni'che, please
If you ever cop D's I'ma have to give 'em away
Nigga I'm paid but shit is real, fuck how a nigga feel
You would swear it was Black Friday how I'm gettin deals
You get the chills when I throw you a rap
And fiends argue all day he's too dope to be crack
So it's a fact, my stuff the greatest, you better save it
I kill a track and send my condolences to whoever made it
Forever hated, these haters wish that I never made it
However make it but this here was all premeditated
Uh-huh family I'm sicker, damn it I'm slicker
If I wanted to see the future I'd go stand in a mirror
The man in the mirror, tell me that I'm crack with the verses
Lil' chalk around the body I'm just scratchin the surface
Bashin on purpose, all these rappers are weak
So like Pat Riley nigga welcome back to the Heat
Writer~!
