The streets annointed me king n***a
Tom Coughlin told me "I hate your guts"
He's jealous because my rings bigger
Scars on my ring finger
Even Tyson told me I'm certified
And I'll never get in the ring wit' ya
It's pink liquour drizzling down my silk shirt
The smell of rosé in the air while i still burp
Never thought I would see a rapper in little skirts
And to be honest my n***a I'm just a little hurt
The alternative, merciless bar murderers
N***as catch brakes when slipping on hard surfaces
Forty-Four Cal, they calling the god Berkowitz
Swiss army flows I use 'em for all purposes
The fake Khaled but I mix drinks
I'm screaming out "we the best"
While I'm eating a steak salad
Abstract art, frustrated I break palettes
Used to be that n***a, month later a straight addict
Hood demographic, shootouts and closed caskets
Young with no father I grew up an old bastard
The flow acid n***a so pardon me
I'm still in the trap like Tiger at par three
A fighter, my scars deep, deep as the ocean floor
I'm seeing through the eyes of a n***a that's smoking raw
I spit like a broken jaw, opposite of orthodox
Bars carry more caffeine than most coffee shops
Adrenaline rush, ten on a bus
Headed downstate, It's fate that put men in these cuffs
That's why I hold my pen in a clutch
Take it back to the early years, a little gin in my cup
N***a what up, I smile while I hold the liquour
All you'll see is a big silhouette of an old gorilla
I can find warmth in the heart of the coldest killer
The earth is pretty big but remember the soul is bigger