7 Minute Drill

Yeah Turn it up Yeah, turn the vocal up Uh Light work like it's PWC It's a cold world, keep the heat under your seat I got a phone call, they say that somebody dissin' You want some attention, it come with extensions My dog like, "Say the word," he on bullshit, he itchin' Done put in so much work in these streets, he got pension And I told him chill out, how I look havin' henchman? If shots get to poppin', I'm the one doin' the clenchin' I came up in the 'Ville, so I'm good when it's tension He still doin' shows, but fell off like the Simpsons Your first shit was classic, your last shit was tragic Your second shit put niggas to sleep, but they gassed it Your third shit was massive and that was your prime I was trailin' right behind, and I just now hit mine Now I'm front of the line with a comfortable lead How ironic, soon as I got it, now he want somethin' with me Well, he caught me at the perfect time, jump up and see Boy, I got here off of bars, not no controversy Funny thing about it, bitch, I don't even want the prestige Fuck the Grammys, 'cause them crackers ain't never done nothin' for me Ho, slugs took my nigga's soul, drugs took another one The rap beef ain't realer than the shit I seen in Cumberland He averagin' one hard verse like every 30 months or somethin' If he wasn't dissin', then we wouldn't be discussin' him Lord, don't make me have to smoke this nigga 'cause I fuck with him But push come to shove, on this mic, I will humble him I'm Nino with this thing, this that New Jack City meme Yeah, I'm aimin' at G-Money, cryin' tears before I bust at him Light work like it's PWC It's a cold world, keep the heat under your seat I got a phone call, they say that somebody dissin' You want some attention, it come with extensions My dog like, "Say the word," he on bullshit, he itchin' Done put in so much work in these streets, he got pension I told him chill out, how I look havin' henchman? If shots get to poppin', I'm the one doin' the- (Conductor, conductor, conductor) (Burn fire) I got mixed feelings 'bout these fuckin' rap niggas It's over for that cap, we official cap peelers Two-six, we don't at niggas, we get at niggas Shoot a nigga lights out, yeah, my dogs stat fillers Stat stuffers, triple-double, get your ass black duffled Body bag, body bag, body bag Cole World your instructor for Pilates class Get a nigga stretched if I feel the disrespect, uh Your arms might be too short to box with the god Who live his life without the pressures of a constant façade I pray for peace, but if a nigga cease these positive vibes A Falcon 9 inside my pocket, bitch, this rocket gon' fly Now it's poppin' outside like the top of July My text flooded with the hunger for a toxic reply I'm hesitant, I love my brother, but I'm not gonna lie I'm powered up for real, that shit would feel like swattin' a fly Four albums in 12 years, nigga, I can divide Shit, if this is what you want, I'm indulgin' in violence Put pictures in my home, aim the chrome at your eyelids Fly pebbles at your dome, we the Stone Temple Pilots This is merely a warning shot to back niggas down Back in the town where they whippin' work and traffickin' pounds My jack jumpin' 'bout a rapper makin' blasphemous sounds Switchin' sides like the tassel on the cap and the gown I'm fully loaded, nigga, I can drop two classics right now Chill, let me chill out, man (conductor) Fall off on the way, nigga