Chiraq vs Ny

Ain't never thought it would happen

This rap and stuff

Was facin' cases because I got caught with gats and stuff

My hater's thought I wouldn't elevate from that trap and stuff

And fuck 12

They want me back in the back with cuffs

God knows my needs

That's why I never ask for much

I work for mine

I swear, I never had good luck

My past was rough

My moms was high, my dad was drunk

Stopped baggin' up

I used to feed my mattress bucks

Rap God, AKA, hip hop's asthma pump

Don't pass, I'm clutch

I'm Gladiator, Maximus

About my bills when I spit like I'm Daffy Duck

Expose the truth

Then turn into your Pastor Chuks

They won't beef until I give 'em what they askin' for

That ratchet talk

Bruce Wayne, the way we maskin' up

We ride with straps

You **** better fasten up

I keep the pump and my whip like I'm gassin' up

There's big sticks when slidin'

We don't pass the puff

The only time they roll smoke is when you pass the blunt

We on your lawn with them choppers like your grass gettin' cut

I'll blast, I'll bust

You die, you just got whacked and touched

Your bitch in heat

She say she want me bad as fuck

The head was good

Before like a giraffe and stuff

She gagged and sucked

Bitch damn near made me crash my trunk

The ass was pump

I did my thing, I smashed, I fucked

And you ain't winnin' if you spendin' more than stackin' up

If you ain't masterin' the math of your cash, you'll flunk

I'm FGE

Them titans scared to clash with us

I'm in my bag, bitch

Don't ever think I'm packin' up

Way before the rappin'

Bitch, I was trappin'

I used to touch bands

I got to that bag from the floor

Just like a dust pan

How was then so much creativity up in one man?

Givin' kids food for their thoughts

I feel like a lunch man

**** spent they last on a pair of shoes with a Jumpman

Feelin' like a mill when he walk

He must be a Bucks fan

And I'm no longer stuffin' pounds in the duffle

Son, I stay on you

'Cause I care to see you smile and I love you

If you don't answer the big picture, you won't value the puzzle

Please teach your kids that life is awesome

Sometimes allow 'em to struggle

And if they spend more than they stack

Then they gon' value the hustle

If you can't nip shit in the butt

And push then how you'd a muscle

Boss shit

Call up my hitters and tell 'em tail fam

Hopped out

Put that strap to his head like he Quailman

Replace the hammers used and then pay him after they nail fam

What you know about killers comin' dressed as a mail man?

My homie told me, "I really don't think they ready fam"

I bet he drop when I roll up on 'em

Just like the deli fan

We cuttin', I'll put that on my blood

Just like a band, baby

Comin' 'round that bitch, blowin' at you faster than fan blades

See, I just wanna see every one of my mans played

Mama in the mansion relaxin'

Don't need a damn thing

Drinkin' lemonade with her feet up under the damn shade

**** didn't wanna believe me until them bands came

Knowin' where I'm goin'

I'm known to goin' a rampage

Mad is written all over they faces like Macho Man's shades

It's like

Asses, I got my bag right

All these bitches wanna act nice

It's money over bitches

I'm pimpin' 'em like a Cadillac

Bitches know I'm lit, yeah

I got 'em drippin' like candle wax

Thinkin' 'bout the top

Reachin' for my bail like I light a match

He say he gon' smoke

Plus his bitch on my pipe, I had to crack

Rap God, baby, my lyrics could kill cataracts

Also just little sad **** lucky that you don't battle rap

The fake be slippin' size for they money

Just like an acrobat

The real ones gonna ride through them ups and downs

Like a camel's back

One life and got time

Ain't no second life where the addict at

From the struggle, I had to grind to get out my habitat

Watchin' green buds by the pounds is lookin' like Applejacks

One hunnid forty eight when I pack his deck lyin' back to back

Matter of fact

Only you pussy **** get matter of facts

I put that on my sons, it ain't really nothin' to have you whacked

If Kriss Krossed

He could get thirty about they Daddy MacK

That's thirty for you haters

I'm shootin', tell 'em come hack a shack

Pictures with my kids and my cribs ain't need no captionin' that

Ain't nothin' like the hugs

From your cubs when they know they daddy back

My daughter's mother strapped .22 in the Gucci fanny pack

Plus I just dropped a bag on the kicks, ****, that's hackie sack

G-O-D my chauffeur, he open the damn door for us

Labels ain't controllin' us

Ballin' like no one's holdin' us

Every lines potent

That's why they come get they dough from us

And this is not a brothel

I promise you ain't no hoin' us

Big choppers takin' off tops

That's can openers

The bullets in my clip

Yellin', "Pussy come get a load of us"

Teflon in my jacket

I'm spawn with that ratchet

Put pawns in the casket

Who want get it crackin'?

I'm a hunnid light Wilt

Tell your **** he ain't built

If he like rowdy, I'm a piper

Then that **** gettin' killed

Skrrt off up in traffic

Bitch, I'm smooth like silk

Teflon wet and what came out the forty cow wasn't milk

Know your part

Go home if you ain't goin' hard

The coldest heart

That's rippin' rapper's souls apart

Came from the bottom, I ain't goin' back like Rosa Parks

These other rappers don't compare to me

Like Noah's ark

Easy!