FromdaTomb$

[Produced By Chuck Strangers] [Scratches By Statik Selektah] [Intro: Sample + Joey Bada$$] ("Go Brooklyn!") Said, what it's like? Joey Bad' and Chuck Strangers Leave niggas endangered It's the real, yo, what's the word word? Pass the herbs—check [Verse 1: Joey Bada$$] My man Dirty had the buddha just to put me in my right mind I rhyme stoned, drop jewels and bright lines Sight dimes wit' slight closed eyes, I'm slight sober Ma, you ain't that girl at giving throat, so bye F it, I'm bipolar, took shorty to the backroom Play charades, she actin' like a vacuum Showed her to the door before the afternoon She fell hard on the floor, so you know that she'll be back soon Fake MC's get their reps ruined Young villain hop up on the track then the track doomed Click-clack-boom, resurrecting boom-bap from the tombs Raps dope like crack in cocoons Back in this mood, back on the move It's the motherfucking real, nigga, chill, act cool Pay respect to the cat Drew And I'm way too blessed to be throwing shots at you [Chorus: Rokamouth & Chuck Strangers] Bi—Bi—Bi—Big, big ups to Brooklyn, home of the realest (Uh, yeah) Bi—Bi—Big ups to Brooklyn, home of the era (Uh) [Verse 2: Chuck Strangers] I'm tryna find my own lane, in this freeway of life Just remember home boy there ain't no free way to life My nigga, it's gon' cost you, try not to lose your soul To the rims, hoes, and gold 'Cause once the devil grab hold, that nigga ain't letting go And I'm far from religious, I just know right and wrong I know how to write these songs, I know how to light these bongs I know how to rip thongs and I'm pretty good at beer pong Nigga, I'm so crazy, nigga, I'm loco Gassed up like Sunoco, press the pedal through the floor Bitch, we out the door, vroom vroom, skrrt Bitch, love don't live here no more 'Cause her weave look faker than her Louie bag Weak chick I tried to bag, had the nerve to turn me down Heard this song and turned around, now she want me to unzip her pants But I'm gone, bitch missed her chance [Chorus: Rokamouth & Joey Bada$$] Bi—Bi—Bi—Big, big ups to Brooklyn, home of the realest Bi—Bi—Big ups to Brooklyn, home of the era Big, Big,Bi—Big, big ups to Brooklyn, home of the realest Bi—Bi—Bi—Big ups to Brooklyn, home of the era (Check) [Verse 3: Joey Bada$$] I got sick of class, started making classics Now all I really do is get the grass lit and bust asses I'm sure to blow like bust acid Puff, assist like Maravich, a true Maverick And I average above average on an average day Doing bad shit, bet you still can't pass this And his teacher still pass him Though they adolescents be addin' rappin' sessions over addin' lessons Like fuck trigonometry, I'm trying to multiply monopolies Subtract some homies then divide the cheese Divide legs just to isosceles so my eyes can see through the E Shit on your hypotheses Hypocrisy after essence like apostrophes You can't stand here unless you pay a posture fee Part the cheese, head out the spot and leave A pile of G's for apology [Outro: Rokamouth] Joey Bad and Chuck Strangers Le—Le—Leaving niggas endangered Da—Da—Danger, da—da—danger, da—da— Joey Bad leaving niggas endangered