Quasimodo

Went from selling eighths to selling quarters
Chose to rap can't go back to the hustlin'
I left the streets alone I can't get caught up
Getting so much do dough like it's a Dunkin
I used to be the plug, ain't drive a charger
Might just cop the Corvette or a Mustang
Need a private jet that I could charter
Soon as I get rich gon' let my nuts hang
The flow is so fucking disgusting
It might need a mopping or dusting
Shit is getting spookier and spookier
I ain't making cuts into pumpkins
Freshman year of high school was flunking
Now to all the fame Im adjusting
Feeling like the world was on my shoulders
Look like Quasimodo way Im hunching
Always knew that I would be a rapper
Since Lil Wayne was boutta drop the Carter
Fighting all my demons kept my guard up
Had a vintage jacket it was Starter
Gained a lot of wisdom and got smarter
Name another rapper going harder
I couldn't tell you why they even bother
Courtside like I was one of the ballers

Back in this bitch came to settle the score
Crowd going wild when I get on the floor
Been so damn confident in myself lately
That you just might not see me sweat out my pores
Put that shit on couldn't tell I was poor
Not having shit only made me want more
Just got to Paris, I'm yelling bonjour
Miss my son can't wait to get home from tour
Raising the bar but I ain't in the gym
Can't no one tell me I ain't gonna win
Back to back dubs, no it ain't on a whim
Gave my all can't say I ain't a good friend
I'm so damn Brooklyn I got black air forces
But I don't mind stomping your face out in timbs
You vs me well your chances are slim
Young Himmy Himdrix, I'm actually him
Fuck what you think give a fuck what you thought
Ain't ever fit in still bus through the door
I still got hands and I ain't new to the swinging
But still kept my hammer real Loki like Thor
I should have been working in hospitality
Cause of the way I be serving these bars
Road to success watch me swerve in that car
Look up to me cause they heard I'm a star

And it is bedlam here in New York City
The crowd roaring as CJ finishes with 42 points
And the game winner
Stoic with a triple double
And New York City has seen enough
Two stars born right before our eyes
What a night, what a night
Wait... is that a piranha?



Credits
Writer(s): Matt Moleta, Cj Fly Cj Fly, Stoic Stoic, James Burns
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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