This some intimate thoughts In a porsche Sipping cris' through a straw You wanted war trying get through her sure I was bored, tried to get me a broad Not a bitch or a whore I'm talking rank, trying to settle the score Diamond to dog, living like the kind in the air Peace to my earth, I swear that she the mom of the year Peace on my turf, ducking all the monitors here Beating the dirt, success is like kilometers near Stuck at my worst, karma talking dead in my ears I'm writing this verse, same time I met with my fears Quarter-century but way way ahead of my years I been gone since Daquan seen him dead at the stairs Stay strapped though Never lack though Watch your back though Word to Fat Joe, we let them ninety-nine clap more This the city called the rotten apple Now you know if you didn't know, nigga better pop a Snapple Sitting in the room like While the room is spinning like the bitch in exorcist head is My mind is always on lettuce Paper chase Shrooms laced Herd the road is infinite No chain, no pendant No Range, no Bentley My rhymes be shittin on lives of rappers you into It ain't ironic I use a number 2 pencil Better pay homage if ever we you bump into Shotty pump hit you, momma grab the tissue Extra magazine make a nigga want a issue Saint Laurant leather i'm like Fonz with a pistol (ayy) In broad day I'll address any issue And undress any damsel in distress if she into Dead niggas, and I ain't talkin about the presidents Or the evil residents Never see the bench again, All 4 quarters It's onslaught pure slaughter All aboard bitch cause it's all water The messiah and the maestro Pen prolific and now i'm twisted off nice dro Thoughts gifted i'm not existing tonight ho I hit her once slide shawty like the iPhone So I shine regal for the people and parana One kiss for my girl, 2 kiss for my momma Parted from my pain won’t dissipate This is missions on minimum wage Until i'm dug up out the grave; reincarnate Pour her ass on the glass off the bombay I get around, 2Pac, just like the song say Gold frame of thought fuck your loss this is Fonzay The columbine of the comic-con I'm blowing up for the common kind I told you pigs I ain't fond of swine I got my own shit, while you ride in mine huh? And we causing ramadan and you not a soldier Need a shoulder you can cry upon Run from the ops, duck shots and maintain Timbs butterscotch, Balmain at all aims I ain't never flop my name hall of fame Drunk drive and swerve lanes Tonight we get (High) Learn from the block we plot to get paid YSL denim J's is all suede Never ever flop my name hall of fame Drunk drive and swerve lane Tonight we get (High)