...Another Warm-Up (Intro) [Freeverse]

Saving punches since the Rumble Pak and 64 bits could make another match
In WWE No Mercy, if you picked up them sticks, then I'd bust your ass
You may look around and think fire being in the church is a probably a bad thing
But every time I sit up front and rip, the choir sittin' in the back sing
I deliver the gospel from living in houses, where people saw me as a sheltered child
But then comes the goriest stories of glory from running the streets, getting hella riled
No matter what I'd do, ask who are you, roaming through the hallways right after School
Lost and confused, but was always amused
By their sick ways, thinking that they're Immune
Now a parasites wouldn't get 'em viral, waste in the toilet with a downward spiral
While I'm out here tryna resemble Spyro, pussy niggas really need to hit the gyno
Well, the time is now, they feeling my wrath, they look at the pain, they walk on the path
On what they thought was victory or glory, but no one'll get a W before me
Look, I'm rollin' with the beat, while they holding on defeat
Haters wanna win but in fear when I sleep
Lookin' like a square went I step in the ring
Never will I sing, shine with the medal and bezel and bling
I ain't solo dolo, rocking the polo, we all no they're a no show
With no flow, or no way of becoming a pro so
Livin' a Fabolous life, but I ain't Loso
What's a petty hustler to the homie runnin' Tidal
Tryna keep climbin' the ladder and cop a title
Since I was a child
I wanted to travel all the way to the Fresh Coast, just to dap Fivel
And chill with a couple idols, and catch a new match in New Japan with Naito
Al Capone, Yeah, I wanted smoke, they never blunt, they always joked
Not a shot, just an observation, of how niggas talk big, then their time wasted

Not on me
I loved that hidden middle character in Mortal Kombat 3

On a mission, ops anomalies, hope they see a pump, if they no longer breathe
I'm a pit when it's off the leash, triangles for new cribs, I sauce a lease
And then the drip being too much, I mop the streets
So my goals seem far but not out of Reach
Another bad creation from the best time, Issues with luck, Don't press mine
True callings automated, press nine, and pay all my dues when it's check time
Me and sis came through to body this, ending all the work of any, uh, lobbyists
For all the people that's trash but politic, we be puttin' in the work, they should call in sick



Credits
Writer(s): Taron Holder
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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