Judas

Take a walk
I gotta change the reel
I said fuck off
Ayo (brr)
Ayo
Fuck these niggas, yo
Ayo

Three shots left his stomach out (boom, boom, boom)
Don't ask, nigga, these ain't comin' out
Niggas tyin' rope around your fam, yo
My shooter so high, the nigga won't land, yo
Wrist a hundred grand, yo
All gold stove, every wall got a Van Gogh
Whipped the work so incredible
Fiend got the pack, bit it open like it's edible, Lord

SB skater on a hater
Phantom on Fairfax, they thought I was a Laker (brr)
Don't get embarrassed by the merits
Murals of Paris, I ain't never been to Paris (never)
Murals of Phoenix, I ain't never been to Phoenix (never)
In Tom Ford suits of Bobby "The Brain" Heenan (never)
Boston crab, the whole slab
Before I go broke, I'll get the MAC and the mask
Over the baby crib, my nigga, where the stash at?
My man killed a family, killed himself and smoked a bad batch

This Margiela on Mad Max
Persian bitch, titties look fake, plus her ass fat (whoo)
Niggas doubted, now they payin' homage
New deal with money to send my kids' kids' to college
Ayo, do the knowledge
Ayo, peace to Knxwledge
You niggas garbage (fuck y'all niggas, man)
Niggas ain't shit, man
Yeah, these niggas garbage

Uh, Fendi monster shit for me and my conglomerate
I heard a lot of niggas spit, but nobody that's dominant
Nobody that's consistent and that's obvious
The music speak for itself and plus I got murals in other continents (that's me, nigga)
Most of these rap niggas livin' in they mama's shit
They pushin' 40 and broke (ha), safety on the .40 is broke
Uh, I blick until you lose consciousness (uh-huh)

High school dropout, spittin' like I got a doctorate degree
I'm what's popping, bitch, you opposite of me
2016, nobody jotted hotter shit than me
You see, dotted my I's, and now I got it to a tee
My goons love me so much, they wanna body shit for free (them my niggas man)
Like, fuck- fuck the bag, they don't need it
They just wanna squeeze and leave you deceased, at least a paraplegic (yeah)
Hit in my head and walked out of the 'spital, please believe it (uh)
Like three days later, now they comparin' me to Jesus (haha)

I walked on water, nigga, I made the blind see
Turned water to champagne, 12 shooters behind me
Those my disciples
All my verses on a God level, nigga, you should find those in the Bible (talk to 'em)
Look, I don't think no rapper can fuck with me (uh-huh)
Nigga feel different, tell him to get in touch with me
Rap shit, street shit, come and see what's up with me (what's poppin', nigga?)
50 round sticks just to air out your fuckery (brr)



Credits
Writer(s): Alan Maman, Desmond Price, Alvin Lamar Worthy
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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