Connected

[Verse 1: Ea$y Money] Ayo, I'm in the same city B.I.G screen Chasing paper same color as the c’s team No matter where I’m at on the map, I bleed green Whole clique got dry skin, we need cream Was on them streets eager to let them gats warm up They told me I’d be much better as a rap performer Getting hype on them tracks, than on them crack corners 'Cause cats'll put mics on your back & rat on ya Getting your weight up, fiends you slinging death to 'em Now you getting your weight you in the rec' room Hitting them sets wishing that you could jet soon May come around you ain’t going home till next June Go ahead, keep scrambling for pennies Imma do this rap till they hand over the benji’s Enough talk about you handling a semi We know ain’t no tucking them hammer in them skinnys [Verse 2: Push!] Don’t ask me 'bout no rappers 'Cause I don’t know no rappers All these live niggas with me 'bout they business, nigga No actors We ghost busters, soul snatchers Put cheese on your head, motherfucker, yeah, gold packets We got bad table manners, wave toast at ya Uh, fuck etiquette when it’s bread to get Get resident evil for dead presidents People, gloves on, loading lead in my eagle And I can make a pelican fly when texting my people I still got the work, you want it? Come holla, fam Talking coke prices [?] port [?] You can get it by the gram, still getting blow off Till static call me to the studio to show off Yo, Ea$y, this is easy money Imma kill these birds fuck if they call P.E.T.A on me [Verse 3:Wais P] Call P.E.T.A Matter of fact, call the animal shelter 'Cause I’m using full length minks in the winter for shelter You ain’t get the memo? I put holes in your limo Or you can pay what you owe and I put holes in your memo Wais P the pimp, y'all niggas is trash Receptacle rapping, basura bars, garbagé Chain swing, wrist dancing when the light shine Pinky ring in, talking with my hands like it’s fuck time Watching she buy a pimp a house, shit She gonna blow me anyways Might as well put her money where her mouth is, ha Ten thousand on the outfit, two hundred on the car I ain’t a fraud, come check my garage I’m living large, I ain’t got lie to rap hard I just live my life, then I put it in bars Musical massage menagerie fanatically Giving you my reality And I ‘all never lose battery, bitch [Verse 4:Joey Bada$$] Ooh, you gotta see him from blue collar season Now he done blew and he at the coliseum Niggas wanna be him, among supreme beings Wanted a BMX last summer, now niggas wanna be him That’s progress, but the BMF process don't sound as nonsense As everything not since Tell di bwoy dem, dem can’t contest I’m ill behind the bars, you don’t know what’s on the card chest Don’t need to take no shots to kill A inner city nigga who faking his spot To tell the truth, these niggas is just chasing twat I rise to the top like Jamaican locs Let the hating stop, they can never do that Young prodigy came back to show you how to do rap That "do that, do that Do-do that-that-that" That "do that, do that Do-do that-that-that"