Yeah This is what happens when you make divine Picky, Get Twisted Sundays Ay, look, flow's amazin', this a demonstration, at it for real Bomb in the sun like a raisin, word to Langston Hughes before the quill Was used to pen the poem of Harlem I commune in Houston, word to Harden There's no one immune to fruits of stardom Especially if the seed is spruced inside the garden Of Eden, southwest my region I told the hood to lean on me; Morgan Freeman I used to have that tree on me, more than vegans Got uglier than Leon Spinks on the weekend Before I deepen what I was thinking That's why I was sinking, rise no more, eyes so sore I feel like scripture implied folklore But it didn't, I got aggravated, trash rap oversaturated I'm non-violent, but my partners'll still put your cap in the air like you graduated It's so crucial yet so truthful, bars are so fruitful I think the picture clear, I don't doodle That's why a lot of my books on my noodle Ouu, ouu, ouu, ouu, ah, ah, ah Can't get 'em off me, I'm so saucy Plus I keep Elohim in my posse Plus my skin the same color as coffee With no dairy, it's scary, came a long way from those thotties Word to Treach, my nature was naughty 'Till I felt like possibly I could be king Joffrey Jovah, no sir, you can't get no closer I need space to get my momma a new ponderosa Tell your girl get out my DM, I don't want no chocha I got friends that's black and white, lowkey like Sammy Sosa Huh Like Sammy Sosa Hahaha Like Sammy Sosa Hahaha Like Sammy Sosa I'm gone