The House That Jack Built
Ayo
I bet 20 thousand on Mac Jones
Walking through the skrippy with sticky sneakers for cash thrown
Act grown or come home, find her getting her back blown
In new positions, we get creative while you get dial tones
I don't know, I wouldn't try this shit if I was you
Cause once they hear rapping this height, you'll need a mic that's childproof
A wild dude, brain spilling, cleanup on aisle 2
Got the youth in my town dreaming, they don't do shit that I don't do
Foul 2 flagrantness, meetings where paper is
All for the love of the game, y'all lames make me sick
Baby pic, piff blower, mower to cut ya green down
Show up the function disgusted, we all we need now
See what I bleed, child, is different, y'all ain't gifted like me
But y'all ain't heard the first twenty times I said it nicely
Think you like lying to yourself, because you know I might be
Ever so slightly ahead of your favorite, so bite me
The House That Jack Built, of vacuum-packed skill will fill a scale
A philosphic, pop ya motherfucking wheel
Call the homies, call your momma, call the president, it's evident
Y'all ain't beheading shit, and I'm the king until I said I quit
So suck my dick, I'm flipping scoreboards and breaking Vegas
Say my name bitch, I ain't saving labels 'til they swang my payment
My third tape on the way, she third base when it play
Miguel Cabrera, then she aim for the plate
Shit, Heaven knows it's me, young Moses Malone in '83
Could spin the beat, snap that shit in half, then pick it out my teeth
Like on some short rib, careers is short lived when they cross paths with me
I'll burn this fucker down, it turn a true New England tragedy
Bagging frees till they had enough, shit all these rappers suck
Don't press your luck, or mom be missing poster pressing up
Aggressive fun, shit, I write my lyrics then assess the rush
Bless I must, signals and signs are circling, said we up
This ain't the same rap you heard before, worship whore
They ain't gone pick it up, I'm Champ Bailey and it's 4th and more
Tour de force effort, full court pressing the best in this
A specialist where you don't stand a chance, so go and tell 'em bitch
I bet 20 thousand on Mac Jones
Walking through the skrippy with sticky sneakers for cash thrown
Act grown or come home, find her getting her back blown
In new positions, we get creative while you get dial tones
I don't know, I wouldn't try this shit if I was you
Cause once they hear rapping this height, you'll need a mic that's childproof
A wild dude, brain spilling, cleanup on aisle 2
Got the youth in my town dreaming, they don't do shit that I don't do
Foul 2 flagrantness, meetings where paper is
All for the love of the game, y'all lames make me sick
Baby pic, piff blower, mower to cut ya green down
Show up the function disgusted, we all we need now
See what I bleed, child, is different, y'all ain't gifted like me
But y'all ain't heard the first twenty times I said it nicely
Think you like lying to yourself, because you know I might be
Ever so slightly ahead of your favorite, so bite me
The House That Jack Built, of vacuum-packed skill will fill a scale
A philosphic, pop ya motherfucking wheel
Call the homies, call your momma, call the president, it's evident
Y'all ain't beheading shit, and I'm the king until I said I quit
So suck my dick, I'm flipping scoreboards and breaking Vegas
Say my name bitch, I ain't saving labels 'til they swang my payment
My third tape on the way, she third base when it play
Miguel Cabrera, then she aim for the plate
Shit, Heaven knows it's me, young Moses Malone in '83
Could spin the beat, snap that shit in half, then pick it out my teeth
Like on some short rib, careers is short lived when they cross paths with me
I'll burn this fucker down, it turn a true New England tragedy
Bagging frees till they had enough, shit all these rappers suck
Don't press your luck, or mom be missing poster pressing up
Aggressive fun, shit, I write my lyrics then assess the rush
Bless I must, signals and signs are circling, said we up
This ain't the same rap you heard before, worship whore
They ain't gone pick it up, I'm Champ Bailey and it's 4th and more
Tour de force effort, full court pressing the best in this
A specialist where you don't stand a chance, so go and tell 'em bitch
Credits
Writer(s): Jack Doherty
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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