Lyrics
Yo… You make me wanna vomit
Yo, pay homage and dos-e-doe my sonnets
I school y’all niggas slow on socios and economics
You mostly know about the dough from airplay
You only know about the heaters, from the shit that we spray
Import from Vietnam cats, like my man Phillipe'
(?) Bustin' crimes back (?) I label it, permanent sleep stay (?)
Y’all cronies souped up
My men ain’t near dumb, we grew up
You want your hair done? Hey, FUCK around and get your crew cut
I organize the mental
And live my life as the next essential
Speak on this wild shit, as If I could begin to
Who fall quick? Too many niggas fightin' over small shit
You’ll find me flippin' stocks, on boats that never dock
I travel blocks, pick the best man
Bust shots at the yes man, 'cause it was destined
For me to flip investments
Bag a lie, in the basement of the Best Western
And if you don’t want the consequence, then don’t ask the question!
— Chorus
In Ninety Nine
Some blow nines
And some stayed indoors! (Flash The Message, something’s out there!)
Ninety Nine, is the time
When the deaf, dumb and blind
All catch war! (Flash The Message, something’s out there!)
It’s like…
Me and my crew
And a little tour show
Learned to flip the dough
With the money we’ve got
In Ninety Nine, more war, more crime
Some’ll stay behind doors, and some blow nines
Your conception is annoying
Leave the things we was born in
The street nights, and hope we see the following morning
Niggas sold soul, for gold ropes
Do crimes, for new shines
Poor beer out on the spot, where police drew lines
Hey yo word, we thirty plus
Wear guns thats dirty (?) bust (?)
Ask your men pa, you should’ve been more (What?)…courteous
Like my rain drop
And all my li’l niggas rockin' tank tops
And sell arms, like government bonds, in Bangkok
Bank stops on lavish trips
Soils I marry with, a dime piece!
A (?)rester oil (?) who speaks in Arabic
If the karat fit, wear it
Every man I know hold
Moreso, y’all niggas happy when you barely go gold!
This time it’s personal…
You like the artistry
Rappers just reuse their first cut
They say the same shit forever
And the use the word, so
They ain’t competing, they knew they was beatin', from the jump
You get FUCKED! Grammatically speaking…
You funny man
Catch me on tour, A town near you
With 20 Grand (Pikasoe), man it’s etiquette
Snatch your mouth off, for rhetoric
I hold the greets from the street
Yet subtle for lockin' shit
Majored in Poly Sci, with a double doctorate!