1Train

[Produced by Hit-Boy] [Verse 1: A$AP Rocky] Uh, feelin' like a vigilante or a missionary Tell my A$AP killers, get they pistols ready Send 'em to the cemetery with obituaries Don't be scared, nigga, is you ready? I've been thinkin' 'bout all the O's in my bank account (What?) X the hoes in my bed is 'round the same amount (What?) Ever since this new star fame came about Or ever since me and Drizzy started hangin' out, huh Young boy, let his gun bang, let his nuts hang Transition to a Lamborghini from a Mustang Drugs slang in the drug game with the hustling (I know one thing) Anything is better than that 1 Train Bag made of Goyard, cheffin' like I'm Boyar— Dee, probably sellin' D in your local courtyard Braids like I'm O-Dog, my la familia go hard Down to my inlaws, they outlaws with no laws [Verse 2: Kendrick Lamar] We outlawed, then I bogart, any pros that got 'proached at With a toe-tag, get broke off in the projects with a skateboard I roll past and I blaze y'all like, "Doo, doo," I hate y'all When the beef cooked, I ate y'all like, "Mmm, mmm!" Let's play ball in a ballpark with all sharks and a blindfold I rhyme cold, my K hot, your 9 cold, that bark like K9s on That banana clip, straight from the rip I'll make that shirt say R.I.P., I'm on some shit If I'm not the hottest then Hell must have froze over You thought it was safe then forgot what the code was I carry traits of a traumatized soldier Don't look in my face, I might snap, I might choke ya Spine right out of place, give me dap like you 'posed to Darts at your posters, dark nights like this I metamorph like I'm 'posed to, I might slice my wrist Or pretend like a vulture and drop off this cliff [Verse 3: Joey Bada$$] Barely even conscious, talkin' to my conscience Gettin' deeper in these flows like conches I'm on my convict, don't drop bars, I drop prisons Don't sell rocks, seen the spectrum through the prisms Somehow bypassed the bias and the -isms The violence and the killin', so given They seen my pigment and thought that was the ign'ance Unfortunately, I am not that type of niglet But pass the pot, let me skillet Just got back to the block from a 6 o'clock with Jigga And I'm thinkin' 'bout signin' to the Roc But my niggas on the block still assigned to the rocks And I swear it hurt me soul I try to prevail but when I preach I only hurt their sales Like you're only gon' end up either dead or in jail But you my nigga, wish you the best for real [Verse 4: Yelawolf] When you mention my name amongst other white rappers Or for that matter any fuckin' rapper, fuck it Painter, skater, musician, trailer park, dirt-ditch-diggin' Burger-flippin', eat, sleep, shittin' human bein', you would be in Trouble to body-double or couple me to these others 'Cause comparatively speakin', my reach is beyond the bubble That they put me in, my vision's beyond the Hubble's I huddle with Nubians, new beginnin' again You in school at 10, late, Radioactive's goin' gold And so? Great! Do I give a flying duck If I'm applyin' love to my rhymin' plus alignin' us? Alabama's climbin' up—wait! No, I don't give a Flying duck nothin' but a buckshot; ch-pow! Motherfuck your life, pussy blood-clot Ain't never been no rapper this cold since 2Pac was froze And thawed out for a spot date at a Coachella show—Yelawolf [Verse 5: Danny Brown] Weed a different color like a hoodrat bra and panties And my flow be overhead like pots and pans in pantries Antsy 'cause I'm high like Michael Jackson, penny loafers Moonwalkin' on the sun, barefoot, with shades on Bitch pussy smell like a penguin Wouldn't hit that shit with my worst enemy's penis Bitch, when I say this, I mean this Ho, I'm the meanest Dick so big, it's like from Earth to Venus That molly got me nauseous, aw, shit, no off switch Lawless, obnoxious, on that "suck my cock" shit That is my synopsis, ostrich's posh shit Hoes on some goth shit, stop it! You not this! Novice, regardless, heartless and awkward Cryin' tears of vodka, prima donna at the concert Adonis smokin' chronic, 'bout to vomit gin and tonic Just bein' honest, tell me, isn't that ironic? [Verse 6: Action Bronson] Swiftly, I shift the Bimmer 860 A heavy smoker, so you know I brought the Blake with me The moon's reflection off the lake hit me You should have stayed with me Now many Asian bitches lay with me The face is silky like a tablecloth My shorty gallop in the mornin' on the beach like a Chilean horse Red roses dropped from boxes very often Confetti torchin', drinkin' Henny like I'm Kenny Lofton Outstandin', I fixed the game between Georgia Southern and Gramblin' You see us scramblin', sellin' Susan Sarandon The cloud of smoke like the phantom Damn, this shit tastes like fantastic, uh You see me comin' through in each state Just so the lord could put the fork inside the cheesecake Cuffed to my wrist, I've got the briefcase The gavel slam, I'm a free man, try not to eat ham [Verse 7: Big K.R.I.T.] Big K.R.I.T., shawty Spit like my last breath: casket rap, six deep Eyes closed, the black is back, out come the 'lac with flats After that, bottles I can't pronounce, like, "How you ask for that?" Why you ask for crack and all you had was scratch? All I had was rap, when all they had was wack All I wanted was love and all they had was dap Fuck them haters and fuck them hoes, a championship win is The aftermath, ask LeBron, open palm, slap a bitch Walk the plank or break a bank, I've been in the business of sinkin' ships Chokin' niggas out with the anchors that they anchor with Resuscitations cost the label, I'm taxin' if you want a hit Clear, fuck your career, bitch, I was born here Been a killer, '86er nigga, that's my born year Get the fuck from 'round here, that's just my country ways Suckin' on your momma's titty, bitchin' while I was choppin' blade Grippin' grain, fuckin' hoes, candy paint like Everglades Miss me with that rapper chatter, take that shit up with my bass I put that on my soul, how could you ever doubt me? Most rappers hopin' the world end so they won't have to drop another album B.B. King saw the king in me, so why can't you? In order to come up close, you'll have to dig up Cash and Elvis, too (That wasn't no sample, nigga!) Muddy water flow, Dixie rebel past Fuck your Louis flag, poppin' benji tags on your wifey's ass (on your wifey's ass) That's out of line, but in livin' color? I'm more like Miya Bailey on you rap motherfuckers: a true artist