Standout

[Verse 1 – AWAR] I'm the game’s salvation. Salutations Solidify my spot to make the foundation You ain't got lock jaw—that's fabricated It's really rock salt—scale ain't calibrated Tight verse of light work, 21 grams Heavy buzz, fam. I need to re-up on rubberbands Son of Sam, I'm sinnin’, touchin’ grams You live on your knees—I stand up like a man You about publicity. I’ll be pleased to bury ya And we ain't scared of your weak-ass character Yellow tape the scene, clear the area These off-brand rappers and their reefer carriers Keep the [Philly filled?] when I kill these bills You’re pussy-footin’ around—no Achilles heel I'm gone with the wind but the frauds are out I'm on Vonnegut shit—AWAR “Slaughter House” [Hook x2 – AWAR] Don't do me a solid, I spit on a hand out Distribute the product, you heard I'm the man now The gift was given, we in demand now I never fit in, always been a standout [Verse 2 – Joe Budden] Let me introduce us: we are hell Your live set’ll get TRL I'll pull out that all-terrain flow (meanin’) Meanin’ any nigga y'all decide to put over I I ride over or override I'm in overdrive—this shit is crucial Your best bet's to stay neutral Or no ski mask, no disguise ‘Cause when I get conceited, I’ll put the nose in the sky I mean your ball's about a phantom They not real—they phantom It's just bullshits, an anthem I take the actin’ tough (as what?) as rappin’ stuff ‘Cause now ya stutterin’, talkin’ ‘bout what happened was You’re colorblind—outfit ain't matchin’ up (go) Gotta call Jeff Hamilton, patch ‘em up Joe's at it, servin’ the dope Addicts closed casket for the beat, toe-tag it [Hook x2 – AWAR] Don't do me a solid, I spit on a hand out Distribute the product, you heard I'm the man now The gift was given, we in demand now I never fit in, always been a standout [Verse 3 – AWAR] I don't relate to ‘em, don’t identify The whips is rented, only time to enterprise Aside from your kid’s skin, hair, and teeth You and I don't share any similarities I'm self-invested—you quick to forfeit bucks To rich corporate thugs extorting us I'm self-made, self-centered, self-guided, self-driven—I call myself the pilot New altitudes, presidential suite is private You’re a choke artist—you give yourself the Heimlich You still slinging crack, dog? Look, it's over I ain't tryin’ to bring it back, I'm tryin’ to push it forward Anyone opposes, I'll Slash your tires Let the wheels flyin’ off the Axel—Guns N’ Roses Catch some type of feeling. Fuck your raps You keep ice grilling ‘til your mug gets stuck like that [Hook x2 – AWAR] Don't do me a solid, I spit on a hand out Distribute the product, you heard I'm the man now The gift was given, we in demand now I never fit in, always been a standout