rex ryan

a nigga like me man

i love the game

i love the hustle man

i be feeling like one of them ball player niggas you know

like bird

magic or something

yeah you know a nigga got dough

a nigga can leave the league

but if i leave. the fans still gone love me man?

i get love out here in harlem man i done sold coke on these streets man hash weed

heroine

as long as niggas is feeling it

a nigga like me could hustle it

the yak in my cup

the mac is tucked

what

i'm sticky from bacdafucup

i keep the blinky since

them niggas clapped my truck up

the wax had me gagging after one puff

i remember bagging drums up

now it's a half of one stuffed in the trunk

i stack my funds up

call my savage and have his gun bust

then they find you wrapped in plastic in a dumptruck

fuck

only built diadoras

i pull up with a bitch

they thought it was rita ora

my lil' headbuster keep his tool ringing off

got two bodies this summer

he said he needs some more

highest grade marijuana

directly from the farmer

my enemies is all goners

guess it was karma

trauma

four keys in your baby mom's elantra

big ass gun like something out of contra

don't make me spray a nigga

bodies drop if i ok it nigga

you know how i play it nigga

red october ye' a nigga

loud moving slow i had to yay it nigga

still ill when i write it

when they don't name me top five i feel slighted

niggas be talking but when i'm around they real quiet

you can pray to jesus all you want

you still dying

motherfucker

ayo

this the second coming of christ

herve leger flight jacket

mac on sight

all red geiger's on

stomp you to death

yeah you got designers but you rocking it left

need a new plug

prices getting outrageous

shot the thirty off

my nigga wasn't even aiming

pink lemonade porsche cayman

low margiela's looking like a nigga painting

patience a virtue

my yard kids will murk you

ink on the balmain blazer and the shirt too

shotgun like peyton

the flygod but the all red yeezy boot's satan

eyes out

gloves on weighing

cameras on every light pole

woah!

life's so great they say a nigga sold his soul

praying rex get us a super bowl

bust out the gate

the wrist froze from flipping o's

you know the rules

let the jewels go smooth

they never should have sold you dudes pro tools

these old dudes let the hoes choose

nigga your shoes is overused

i hear the fat lady singing that bitch can hold a tune

it's been said i'm god in the flesh

i had to show and prove

my sneakers is literally from italy

leaned on the cane thought it was muscular dystrophy

a hundred shots your hilfiger look like a fricassee

who you think you mr. t? mitch green?

or the new richard roundtree?

you found in queens with your shit twisted like it was ground beef

a few niggas in town grieved

variegated paint on the i8

obviously you see that i ate

don't think i'm like these other rap niggas cause i ain't

you got pie on your face

denim and supply is for flyweights

you can't buy taste

we looking at you sideways