Street Magic

Can't be late for the show

You should know for sure

Gotta get the dough

Tell your friend to go

Oh, you should know

Everything we make is cold (uh)

Can't be late for the show (uh), no, oh

Use the fentanyl, cut the blow

Yo, death-defyin' acts

Throw a line at you like a flying axe

Those some fire raps

It's no wonder why I'm detached

Numbers-wise, the budget was high like we're paddin' stats

(The one who cooked) with Al makin' magic Jack, we some lab rats

The rap pack, true that, cool cat

But I will come boom your ass off the map (whoo)

Who but you could pull your ass up out the grass by the bootstraps

But still look new off the rack?

Don't let these folks gas you, they casuals (casuals)

You nicer than Marci? That shit laughable

Two racks for the tracksuit

Exotic like dragon fruit, draggin' you (draggin' you)

Like a mink when it hit the back of the shoe (uh)

Your jacket's as sharp as a jackal's tooth (uh)

I'm like a wild animal on the loose (whoo)

I'm a wolf, I'm aloof ('loof)

I'm not cool, despite what you might have assumed

I'm rude (I'm rude, boy)

Uh, Rolls-Royce sped off

At this point, I'm beatin' a dead horse

The whore's weave fell off (mm)

Your head falls on the floor like spaghetti sauce (whoo)

Shells hit your core like a wreckin' ball

Everything on the walls and the dressin' floor

Your whole floor dissolved to a big quart of Epsom salt

This is all just for sport, I was meant to ball

Check the score

Can't be late for the show (that shit we on, nigga)

You should know, for sure (you see it, nigga, check the score)

Gotta get the dough (yeah)

Tell your friend to go (yeah)

Oh, you should know

Everything we make is cold

Can't be late for the show, no, oh

Use the fentanyl, cut the blow

Paid for decent clothes

Man, they say, "You reap what you sow"

The locs a few G's, but to each his own

The hatin' be stinkin' like cheap cologne

It reeks broke

Seepin' in your coat like reefer smoke

Folks scream, "He's the GOAT, he cold"

But I don't need my ego stroked

People, this ain't no kinky peep show

Even though this is the most freaky flow (nasty)

But I ain't freaky, yo (not at all, whoo)

Fake tastemakers tasteless

That shit you praisin' ain't this (that ain't this)

Your favorite the flavorless (uh)

I'm on the most-hated list (uh)

Your lady friend got my name on her lips

Cocaine sniff, soft as an angel's kiss

Entanglements like Jada Pinkett Smith (uh)

The rich Cartier bangler wrist

This the fatal hit

Yayo missed, gave her the nasal drip

Scraped it off the dish

Real shit

Marci

(Hundred blocks)

Alchemist

Pimpstead

Pimpire

Killers for hire