Numbers on the Board [Freestyle]
Not wearing two chains, but I keep it TRU
Real niggas with me my real bitches, too
Out for Trump change, yeah, I gotta eat
Patience is a virtue
Something flawless gonna come to me
I'm rollin OG, blow it out the roof
She eyeballing me, macking hoes like CPUs
She know me, might've saw me on TV too
Thugging with the homies, tryna make it
Kicking ghetto tunes
Out the gutter, bitch, what your focus is?
Small-time hustling
Now it's time to do it big
I want it all, fancy cars
Yeah the newest shit came a long way
Riding round on my Buick shit
Win by any means who said it best?
Kobe Bryant mind-state
I'm shooting 'til I'm accurate
Can't stop it 'til I'm
A couple million strong
Grinding to put my loved ones on, in my zone
Not your average rapper
Step inside my universe
Far from you average rappers
Nothing is by the book
Welcome to Hell's Kitchen
Show you just how to cook
The city is full of bishops
Putting pressure on rooks
My vision so panoramic
My brain on another planet
To reach it, you gon' need
More than a neuro-ologist, honestly
To be honest, far from lyrical
Gifted with miracles when I rhyme
It's a ritual
Spit it, it hit your spiritual, nigga
I'm planning my day of triumph
All I got is my word and my sword
Choppers and bibles
I pray pray a nigga never get in my way
'Cause that'll be the moment he make
His bed and just lay
And now, you see me shining, perfect timing
I'm a Top Dawg i love this feeling
Make a killing when I'm on tour
All my life surrounded by negativity
Jealousy through the midst of it all
This what they telling me
Motherfuckers can't rhyme no more
'bout crime no more (Uh, huh)
When I was in the streets
I put them numbers on the board
(What happened?) i robbed two niggas
Put they chains in the pawn shop
(What else?) got five hundred
Spun't it all on a quarter piece (Uh, huh)
Made about fifteen hundred (Uh, huh)
Them new J's was about two hundred (Uh, huh)
The word got back, they know I done it (Tch)
Spent a thou' on a few new drummers
Took it to them
'cause I knew they was coming
Three yards left (Ahahahaha)
Ran through those like first-and-goal
Naw I'm back, burnt pistol close, like
"Who got the dough?"
Yea, DMX of the projects (Uh, huh)
Skinny Black nigga with a complex
Fuck your Pyrex (Fuck your Pyrex, haha)
Robbing everything
No patience for the nonsense
Professor X with a Tec, get your mind hit
They say I rap with a chip on my shoulder
Naw, nigga, this the wit's of a soldier
Motherfucker it's Jay Rock!
Oohoohoo, ahahahaha, ahh!
You got it, big bro!