I pull rabbits out the hat, tricks up my sleeves I air out the showroom, the shit can breathe Fix your weave, behold my expertise [Chorus: Wu-Tang Clan] I got my
broke the shits, went and rushed the kid Wavin her hands, she had a half an axe, all in her tracks He grabbed her by the air, she broke his jaw it cracked
, the show goes on One in the air for the people ain't here Two in the air for the father that's there Three in the air for the kids in the ghetto Four
that than pissed on, I'm the Jetsons, you the Flintstones Catch me in the end zone, high stepping, prime time Thought you niggas been on, ain't no blocking my shine Like my new Air
, I lost a flip for five stacks Yeah I'm talkin' five comma, six zeros, dot zeros, here it go Back to runnin' circles 'round niggas, now we squared up Hold
Keep a glock that will shock and bring the rest Tucked underneath my Mitchell and Ness I, travelin', handlin' with a forty-five cannon It's tucked in my
! I know my ego will cheer me I'm five steps from insane one line from your girl I'm one hit away from destroying the whole world My names Kardinal listen
Malibu I'm ballin' hard baseline, fall through the alley oop Bam, comin' through this thang Like James in the air off the bare of my hand Nigga just can't pretend you forgot my
it's Staten Island New York the forgotten borough Home of the wallaby champ, we stay thorough Since the days of snatchin' Lee patches Stitching my name in my Kangols so my
a thrill Got bills waiting on me, and its drama in my ear I wanna sit still, but I'm busy tryna live Forgiving all my sins, crucifixed now I'm fixed Road
did something But I can tell you then Rather take a bullet in my head than leave my family unfed And that's the way it is This goes out to my homies,
feel drummin I creep in when the lights out, sneak in to get you out Lo jacks on my ears to tell me where your where abouts Cause I air 'em out, sneak
' honor I see we talkin' again I have no representation now shall we begin? I know you seen my face before but hold on my friend It's niggas gettin' away
man, disgraced the race of a atheist Intercepting missiles wit my bare hands like a patriot One track sliced without swords, I buried the Christ corpse In my
style's tasteless and it GOT NO FLAVOR [Bahamadia] Projects my eyesights to the heavens like dead or wise sages Release what I hold save it through my
they call Honduras Nothing fake about my life except my car insurance Bullet proof vest, my jefa sense stress Nothing positive about me, except my piss
