Lyrics
What don’t kill ya said to make ya stronger
Hesitation now, it only takes ya longer (x2)
I’m a workaholic and an alcoholic
Sniffin work to rock it whatever works I’m on it (x2)
Mary Mary with a marijuana garden how did it grow
Snow, white might powder her nose, but we outta the dough
Forget the keys I didn’t sniff em, gettin money from the ATM
The screen said withdraw, damn, how did it know, ow.
Now with the flows been known to render cowards powerless
So, it’s in with the new and out with the old
And I don’t wanna get any bigger the undergrounds cool to me Your a fool to me, sold out for a little bit better jewelry
But ain’t nothin like a little old school to me
I managed to move ahead of the amateurs
Plans to maneuver, Tyler the Creator sound man, I’m Amped for the future
Hands to salute ya No hands to sh-sh-shoot ya Shit, damn I just missed ya Took them Xanax I’m stupid
I’m up here with Duff beer and large pimpin
Ashin off my cigar in yalls kitchen
Ya mom blue top, like Marge Simpson
Man, are yall kiddin, y’all the fuckin competition
I thought yall was just nothin, I’d stomp to get a rhythm…
(Hook x2)
Man fuck what y’all said I’m hard hit the blunts, that I I fell oh well
Blunt on each end of the circle laughin LOL
(???) facin counter clockwise
It’s amazin how I stop time round bout 5
Then spit up in a Sheriff’s face and gouge a cop’s eye
I need to stop, drop and roll through the house
Your on fir, but your labels gassin you, and it won’t put you out
And me? I’m the go to guy with a flow to fly, go to skies when I vocalize
smoking, smoking by, not smoking signs but I’m smoking nines
You’re smokin a blunt your with friends I’m by myself smoking mine,
choking I hope he’s fine, no I broke my spine all the time
It’s only natural, homey, catch when I throw these at you
And I don’t need math to carry the nine and go subtract you
(Pete, what’s with all the gun talk that I hear?) I just do what the beats
tellin me to do — I talk to the snare
Them yamps with fake implants, I make them damp
When they call they reach the voicemail box like a trachea implant
(Hook)x2
I remember a time before my city had a scene
Back when we took back and dream bout be in a rap magazine
It had to be, oh, I say circa '93 an egotistical prick that no one circumcised
me We were hurtin guys dreams
With a virgin rhyme scheme
So MhZ beside me And that’s the birth of my scene
Before that Columbus had no international acts
So we spectate who shat on the map as an actual fact
And the vibe broke history of hip hop it’s written
Been documented so the guys who spittin lies to check if its Copy writen
But we all contribute Blueprint, (names of Columbus rappers) prism Illogic,
Thought Sessions, If I forget to get em I got em in the next song I’m pinnin
That old egos non-existent
Now I’m on a mission to unify ever squad that’s rippin
Used to be on that bullshit, it was wrong, dog, right I know
But, man, seems to be such a long long time ago…
(Hook)