God Bless

[Verse 1: Marv Won] Who the best rappers right now? Nigga it's us Chris Wallace, N.O.R.E. yo, is bigger than us I grew up in Detroit where the trigger the clutch It's an elephant in the room and I'm here for the tusks I'm pouring with my potions, nigga, that drink Is potion for your emotions, why don't you think? If you open for some coachings, nigga, the brink Would be closer, man, I'm boasting like my shit don't stink Come and get a whiff of a winner God of the alphabet with the scent of a sinner Even when I started I've never been a beginner Boy I'm balling with the crack and I've never been with a Jenner Or a Kardash, I don't care how many miles the car has Long as these Jordans look good up on the car dash I'ma get it, whip it, flip it then walk away from the car crash Really good a couple people done peeped it They biting their tongues like they keeping a secret But the word gon' get out, no matter how much you bleep it The mouthpiece turn the sternum to a freak bitch Nigga, peep this I eat with a table full of legends We disregarding the sneak diss You got beef, bitch? No, you don't 'Cause you'd be wearing my shoes in your ass if the sneak fit [Verse 2: Royce da 5'9"] Who the best rapper right now, I never could tell Too busy writing down these reckless confessions of hell To touch people with the words like the rhetoric Braille They tell me I'm too lethal and I never would sell But I'm an alcoholic, I'd just end up dead or in jail If I ever, ever, ever sold records like Adele I black out, I don't just rhyme It's why I get credit after every, every episode like a sitcom Bunch of record execs still wanna sit down This is why I'm still standing like a fridge Stainless steel stand cold year-round Who cares what the future hold? Your soul's in my hand My ear's to the ground, hear now Sober, clear, calm Driving sixes far away from all them sixteens as I could get You could call it nowhere near PRhyme, ha Who gives a fuck about Billboard or a Billboard list? I could afford to get bored and put the whole Billboard list on a billboard In fact I got a message for you I got your favorite rapper baby momma dress in my dresser drawer Ah yes, I'm on my second fourth piece of pie, yes keep your podcasts I don't care who you stamp, who you checking for I just need the check endorsed, I don't rap to get a rep no more I'm no longer known as street in the streets That's because if it was ever war And the enemy was deep I'd more or less show them boys less is more If there was beef I came for everyone and everything I play for keeps, even kept the score I'm a legend or Lord My pen is my second sword My dogs will get at you with no hesitation Ain't no room for reservations in my reservoir [Chorus: Royce da 5'9", Ol' Dirty Bastard, & Mr. Porter] For you to even touch- touch my ski- skill T- t- t- t- t- touch my skill I said, God blessing all the rap niggas I got some threats awhile back So I went and silenced all the gats Same way I did all my last critics God bless all the rap niggas [Verse 3: Mr. Porter] Who the best rapper? Well, honestly, I could say it's the two niggas with the verse before me Outside of them and me, well, you might know him I call him "Me" backwards All the accolades we share between us is a G factor Lean back, and you can see the scene action without the green screen being active In other words, real shit will pop y'all a bunch of snooty crack pots Think being tough is being snuff? Call the duty Black Ops now And you getting bodied by three singing niggas We all can hold a note, and I don't just mean money Now, everybody do it, to me it's kinda funny I preach facts, no bow tie, all praises due To the most high for not making me like most guys I write it, sing it, rap it, produce it, play it I Big Daddy Kane say it, I go to work You play sick, face it, you basic talent I am symbolic to what makes Quincy Jones valid I simply unbalanced You could say I'm the son of Darth Vader cross faded, switch when they hit a center Ah shit, cause cancer, of course I'm very dope Every goat has a hearing bone herringbone That's why I'm sporting my shit on Periscope Shoot your glare hoe out the sky we revolt, bare they hopes When they see these three niggas walk in, like the intro from Bel-Air hoe