Malt Liquor

This is dope, no syringes
We 'bout to blow the door off the hinges
Got beef, we at ya dough with the biscuits
Hotter than the Stove in the Kitchen
Yeah, SPK; that's the gang gang (gang gang!)
All day, every day; we don't play games
From Amsterdam to the Great Lakes
You know I had this planned since the eighth grade
Fuck a splash, we gone make waves
We need to stand on the main stage
Go ahead and tip ya glass, it can stay raised
Ay, Rob, this a classic like Dre makes
I'll body the track
And any lame mothafucka' sayin' Nati is wack
We got a lot of the 'yak, plus the shotty in back
Just in case a mothafucka' don't know how to react

Make a path, we gon' take it back
To the days of malt liquor in paper bags
Raise a glass to the golden age of rap
And pour a little out for the greats who passed

They wave the flag, I blaze the track
So dope, you would think it's laced with crack
They'll replace you fast, gotta make it last
True stars still shine when it fades to black

This is sick, no prescription
If y'ain't with the click, keep ya distance
I'm 'bout to flip like a gymnast
Bring the toys to ya crib like it's Christmas
SPK, that's the trademark
We got the AK and the AR
Just in case lames wanna play hard
My homie used to slang at the skate park (R.I.P.)
Put the speakers on max to make the neighbors mad
Nothin' but stars in my congregation
We are not a rap group, we're a constellation
I heard your song and it's not my favorite
Rest In Peace Pac and L, Deadly Combination (R.I.P.)
But best believe if we're talkin' greatness
I better hear my name in the conversation

Make a path, we gon' take it back
To the days of malt liquor in paper bags
Raise a glass to the golden age of rap
And pour a little out for the greats who passed

They wave the flag, I blaze the track
So dope, you would think it's laced with crack
They'll replace you fast, gotta make it last
True stars still shine when it fades to black

Yo

Some of these rappers really need their balloons popped
Get a big head, start actin' like a huge cock
You are not as hot as your crew thought
You're just a small sizzle in a huge pot
100 Miles and Runnin', you'll give up after two blocks
Never reach the Finish Line unless that's where you shop
I'm with the squad puttin' a bomb in a shoe box
Turn your Foot Locker to the hurt locker, hooah!
I'm your new god; if not, I'm your Gdkllr
Oh my fuckin' god! I'm a monster, Godzilla
Turn the radio off, that's my pop filter
Your album's like a cigar, inside's all filler
I'm the personification of God and Satan
More than a star, I'm a mothafuckin' constellation
'03 shit, Olde English to wash the pain with
And I didn't spill a drop while the cops were chasin'

Make a path, we gon' take it back
To the days of malt liquor in paper bags
Raise a glass to the golden age of rap
And pour a little out for the greats who passed

They wave the flag, I blaze the track
So dope, you would think it's laced with crack
They'll replace you fast, gotta make it last
True stars still shine when it fades to black

They call me Nati, but refer to me as God
Got all these rappers straight nervous when I drop
Bottles or bullets, I'm servin' 'em with shots
I'm cold when I flow like bourbon on the rocks
But I don't trade shots, I'll smash the whole bottle
Gdkllr, your favorite rapper's role model
I'm back to show all you how it's supposed to be done
Never leave the house without a coat and a gun
'Cause it's cold in the sun, if you get caught with your pants down
All these little rappers too cocky to stand out
Tell the same jokes like they different than last clown's
Never get ahead, they should stick to the background
I never back down, I am a soldier
I'm sick, when I spit, you might die from Corona
Self-Proclaimed Kings, it's time that you know us
Our time is now, you can cry when it's over

Make a path, we gon' take it back
To the days of malt liquor in paper bags
Raise a glass to the golden age of rap
And pour a little out for the greats who passed

They wave the flag, I blaze the track
So dope, you would think it's laced with crack
They'll replace you fast, gotta make it last
True stars still shine when it fades to black



Credits
Writer(s): Gerald Owen
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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