Verse 1 I’m walkin this walk, I’m talkin this talk The boys they got my back up, walking with a swagger. Sneakers stay fresh, white tee stay crispy, Light crease in my blue jeans, yall try to stay with me. Nate butters hook my line up, sharp tape in the sides and the front. Jackie Chan style, I do my own stunts. Black man watch that man right there. So much dough in my back pocket I gotta front. I got favor, my back’s watched, how bout your front? Neighbor relax please, cause trust me this ain’t what you want. Too many soldiers walk with He, be easy, The team gives ghosts the heebie jeebies. (Brother please) I ain’t scared of nothing under the heavens, I throw wack suckers, doggy start hoeing and heaving. Listen your flow is daffy, start ducking, Cause my flow is hungry and my bar’ll eat your team up.
CHORUS Secular rappers, I’m coming. You hear my footsteps I’m coming. I mean this brother to brother, man. I hope you suckas got your bags packed, Cause if not you’re gonna feel my wrath. (Repeat 2X)
Verse 2 My bible got a lot of “Clipse” “Baby” (“Grindin’”, “Bird Call”), So relax boy, before they ask “What happened to that boy”? Won’t hesitate a minute to get at that boy, I make that sin thing diminish and your flesh can go with it. Future’s flow quite attractive and dapper The chiropractic rapper, I gets it crackin. He’s so focused, it’s nothing that could distract him, Put a low jack on his ankle, ya’ll still couldn’t track him. I’m not braggin, but the flow is proper, Any bro close to Future’s flow probably with Hoffa. Meaning dead somewhere under a field, I give props to Pac and Big, but that’s about it. And I’m glad Jay-Z finally retired, He got out the game just in time to miss this fire. But the rest of you suckas get ready, I’m about to have the whole secular industry delirious like Eddie. I’m not heady, I’m just so sure, That Jesus writing and Future flow sick with no cure. Chitty chitty bang bang, Future doing his dang thang, Rappers is moving they mouth but ain’t saying a dang thang.
Verse 3 You secular Iraqi rappers, it’s over for you soldiers, Like Bush and Sadaam, I push buttons and bomb. Flow hits so quick, faster than Islam, And deeper than a Buddist, I’ll show you how to do this. Matter of fact, I’ll show you how to do it the right way. These ain’t just bars of stuff I’d like to say, But these is bars of stuff you might see, if you’re even in Vegas (Greenville) or anywhere that I might be. And don’t think it’s a game I’m twenty plus years old, I stopped playing around thirteen. Am I the only one that’s seeing the world is hurting? And willing to spit with substance, not about slinging and fronting. Bars is wack and empty, not rapping about nothing, Empty barrels making a lot of noise. And listen, I ain’t scared of none of your boys. I got boys too and we got favor, what yall got is nothing. I’m simply too much for ya, You can’t fool with the brother, if you do he’ll bust ya. Duck tape your flesh up doggy and Bible-butt ya. You better chill before it get real and you get touched bro.
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