The Great
Yeah, I'm finally on my one-two, you fake artists is untrue
now watch how the son do
without me, who would you run to
to hold the best kept secret, like walking in a club sneaking a gun through
welcome to the album and how come
the style from the child attack the crowd like a falcon
well, the gift is in me, like a fifth of Henny
cross the Pacific, lifted, spending different pennies
from foreign currency, and just then it occurred to me
that I turned a G, and every sense with the word could be
see I came up, where niggas aim pumps
and you can frame stomped, if you a lame chomp
it's ashamed, that many didn't make if from the pissy mattress
and sh*tty blanket, when I left the city vacant
I, got the right to grip the balls in my nut sack
front, back, no matter what track, I'm spitting cut crack
L is, invincible, a minstrel show is not sensible
when I insist to flow, and suspense and let a sentence go
this is mental heat, on a sheet written
from a seat, sitting, in a presidential suite
off of gam weed, light it up to make my hand bleed
poetry, that hopefully breathes what a fan needs
now I'm considered this great, niggas'll hate
cause I move to a bigger estate, crib with a gate
stay dipped, with a pay day grip, hit a jay tip
and may flip, like a AK clip, in a getaway whip
popping off, when you see me on the shelf
it's got you beating on yourself, like you trying to stop a cough
till my, soul is with Christ, I control a device
with a scroll, precise as a ho, y'all rolling the dice (see)
who's ever misled, should piss red
sick a d*ck and kiss head from the fist, y'all was just fed