Self Explanatory

{Journalist} (Journalist) Uh, Journalist, (idealist), and it's a journey (I'm the journalist) Urban wars (the flow) I don't fuck around Crazy World, Motown motherfuckers Uh, dream team (Idealist, and it's a journey, I'm the Journalist) I don't fuck around dunny Yo, aiyyo, right from the gate, dog It shouldn't be no type of debate 'Bout who's the nicest with a mic and a tape You know I'm bright in the waist When I'm shining up the pipe with an eight Before I leave you with a trifiling face If you got Salsbury I play Marbury Hit you with the handle Before I light you up like the wick that's on a candle Have your bitch watch shots ripping through your flannel Lower parts to your heart sticking to her sandals Journalist, but you can call me tupee splitter You sweeter than the bottom of your Kool-Aid pitcher You think it's just musical here, I bust a few in the air While your lil' sister's doing your hair Still in your crib, one shot pilling your wig I blow out your face, while the combs still in your hair Too severe for a medical truck I could bet a few bucks They gon' probably have to shovel you up, what (Hook- Samples + and random DJ scratches) Idealist, and it's a journey, oh I'm the journalist The flow, (I don't fuck around) Uh, Idealist, and it's a journey, oh I'm the journalist The flow (I don't fuck around, dunny) {Journalist} See yo, I keep them biscuits squirting 'Till the wrists is hurting 'Till your shit ooze out like dish detergent I still keep the chickens lurking Got bitches circlin' 'cause they see me in the whip with Erving I will show you a nina If you don't think the auto can turn your torso to a sprinkler Then I pull off in the beautiful cat New Jag, no tints, I'm a beautiful cat 1-6, y'all know what we do to you, black All my niggas squeeze triggers 'til they cuticles crack If we got a full clip, we'll be sending you half Hole in your legs, give your calf a genuine draft Like the bottle of beer, then a minute you pass Tap your pockets, see how many benjis you had Hit the spot, tell Carl call to send a few scags From my criminal staff from that cynical ave Machos mothefucker Hook {Journalist} See yo, I studied the block, so I got damn good methods On how to burn strips like I can't cook breakfast You ain't stabilized, it help when your label rise Every time I turn around, your face in the cable guide To my rap books, you can find me shackled Blow out your shit, leave it in your Mommy's scrapple I could, kindly catch you, let the tommy clap you Fill you with more holes than a Chinese apple You hit gasoline talk fast and lean Pop fly, and get left with half a wing Watch who you talking to get your glasses cleaned Before I be forced to empty out this magazine Barrels throwing out twenty like a Jack in Queens Leave you somewhere throwing up your last cuisine Most of the week, you find Journ over in beats When it comes to the throne, homes, you just holding my seat, uh Hook