Train of Thought II
Understand that I don't spit, bitch, I vomit
And stand behind my bars like solitary confinement
Fuck yo money, fuck yo cars, fuck yo bitches, and diamonds
I'll be damned if I let some money come and defile me
Hello, my name is conscience
How about I take these fuckers back up in a ride in my train of thought?
If you wanna play lil' bitch then act up, in your murder I'll play a part
Um, put me on a track with a rapper I'll lap em all day to dark
Ever think you better, boy, you plastered
You really think that you hard?
Bitch, your mind is harder than mine to find
Diamonds all over your time but mine is coming when it does I'ma shine
With no flash to hide behind
Money don't mean you can write a rhyme
Don't make you something to idolize
And I can't help but wonder why y'all wear it like you tryna die
I'm independent, no, I don't need a pendant
Yeah, when I get the check in, boy, I know how to spend it
No, not on the Patek
No, not on a necklace
Yeah, you copped it just to flex
But it's fuckin' pathetic
I ain't fuckin' with your image
I'm happy to come and rip it
All these rappers just a gimmick
They wack so they have to mimic
And lacking originality's half of it
Sad the grip of it's cap but I'll smack the brim of it back,
Make your ass go get the shit
I put hands together like it's a Sunday
Underground, but making moves like I'm riding the subway
If you wanna eat, you gotta get it like a buffet
But if you got beef, we can meet like a chuck steak
You comin' at me wrong, you gon' get hit like it's a one way
So best better watch your step like you walk in the fuckin' runway
Venues been tryna book me cause my shit be lookin' front page
They like how the boy shoot shots got em jumpin like it's a pump fake
Aye, no designer in my drip
Unless I found it at the thrift, yeah
Beater be the whip, bet I could still pick up your bitch
I don't need to claim I'm rich ya'll need to pick a different niche,
Boy I'm shitting on your fit to match that piss up on your wrist, aye
Honestly, I love it when these bitches doubt me cause when they hear the sound everybody like to crowd me
210, SA town, Bexar County
I'm the realest in the city
You better get to know about me
And stand behind my bars like solitary confinement
Fuck yo money, fuck yo cars, fuck yo bitches, and diamonds
I'll be damned if I let some money come and defile me
Hello, my name is conscience
How about I take these fuckers back up in a ride in my train of thought?
If you wanna play lil' bitch then act up, in your murder I'll play a part
Um, put me on a track with a rapper I'll lap em all day to dark
Ever think you better, boy, you plastered
You really think that you hard?
Bitch, your mind is harder than mine to find
Diamonds all over your time but mine is coming when it does I'ma shine
With no flash to hide behind
Money don't mean you can write a rhyme
Don't make you something to idolize
And I can't help but wonder why y'all wear it like you tryna die
I'm independent, no, I don't need a pendant
Yeah, when I get the check in, boy, I know how to spend it
No, not on the Patek
No, not on a necklace
Yeah, you copped it just to flex
But it's fuckin' pathetic
I ain't fuckin' with your image
I'm happy to come and rip it
All these rappers just a gimmick
They wack so they have to mimic
And lacking originality's half of it
Sad the grip of it's cap but I'll smack the brim of it back,
Make your ass go get the shit
I put hands together like it's a Sunday
Underground, but making moves like I'm riding the subway
If you wanna eat, you gotta get it like a buffet
But if you got beef, we can meet like a chuck steak
You comin' at me wrong, you gon' get hit like it's a one way
So best better watch your step like you walk in the fuckin' runway
Venues been tryna book me cause my shit be lookin' front page
They like how the boy shoot shots got em jumpin like it's a pump fake
Aye, no designer in my drip
Unless I found it at the thrift, yeah
Beater be the whip, bet I could still pick up your bitch
I don't need to claim I'm rich ya'll need to pick a different niche,
Boy I'm shitting on your fit to match that piss up on your wrist, aye
Honestly, I love it when these bitches doubt me cause when they hear the sound everybody like to crowd me
210, SA town, Bexar County
I'm the realest in the city
You better get to know about me
Credits
Writer(s): Roger Ramos, Trevor Obrecht
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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