Psalm 117 Interlude

(VERSE 1)
I don’t want nobody else on my arm
I don’t want the fire drill, false alarm
I don’t wanna take shots, wanna disarm
I don’t wanna get lucky, giving some charm

Wanna give a little bit, wanna give some back
Wanna give love, not a cardiac, heart attack
Don’t wanna back hand, but if you’re talking smack
Get up off my gram, and I ain’t talking bout crack

I’m loud and proud, large and in charge
Give it a hunnid, don’t need no charge
I am the King, period, no discharge
You’re just a simp, son, not talking bout Marge

You’re like the edges, bout to get laid
You’re like my bank account, bout to get paid
But if you’re talking shit, drop an F like a bad grade
You’ll catch a palm, and not talking bout some shade

Don’t feel any pressure, like you’re living in a cyclone
I’d do it raw, in the dark or with lights on
If you go away, I will beat it like Michael
Put the pussy sleep, like my middle name NyQuil

Don’t forget the glove when you run it back, OJ
I squeeze the pussy, make some juice like OJ
Like I said you a simp, son like OJ
Got you looking like Yoncé, saying ‘Oh, Jay’

Diamonds on my wrist, and my neck always icy
From down under but my blood is very spicy
I’m the ref so my shirt is very stripey
I’m the marshall, please call me Tai Chi

I am the man, but I ain’t poison ivy
Apple to my eye, nah I prefer lychee
I do my own stunts don’t call me Bruce Lee
I’m the king, don’t use that term very loosely

(CHORUS)
She ride the dick like a Harley
Enzo like Ferrari
Octopussy, calamari
I ain’t lying, no safari

She my queen, but never Harley
Fuck her like I’m sorry
Give this Dickens to her
Like my middle name is Charlie

She ride the dick like a Harley
Enzo like Ferrari
Octopussy, calamari
I ain’t lying, no safari

She my queen, but never Harley
Fuck her like I’m sorry
Give this Dickens to her
Like my middle name is Charlie

*SONG CHANGE*

(CHORUS)
I be changing my women
Like I be changing my sheets
I got a lot of baggage
Like a criminal on the streets

I got a lot of bad habits
Like a psycho killer Bundy
I’m a bad decision
But the bad decision is me

(VERSE 1)
Yo, I’m switching my energy
Got no other option
Aligning my chakras
Got no other problem
Arranging my star signs
Got no other cosmic
I’m fly as shit
Ill but not bubonic
I’m resurrecting
On the third day
Straight to the top
I swing no other way
Beep beep bitch
Get out my way
I said Beep beep bitch
Get out my way

I’m making a b-line
Straight to the top
I’m doubling and tripling
But I will never stop
I got a little problem with me
I will never pop
Cause the music I’m producing
Is soft core hip-hop

I never been the type to make mumble rap music
Only stay authentic, payola, I’m refusing
Fuck making radio hits, fuck the GP
Cause they music already shit
I make music for me

(CHORUS)
I be changing my women
Like I be changing my sheets
I got a lot of baggage
Like a criminal on the streets

I got a lot of bad habits
Like a psycho killer Bundy
I’m a bad decision
But the bad decision is me