I bear arms like button-downs without the sleeves
Only breakin' bad in the lab, thought y'all was makin' meth…
...and leave a crowd dripping like John the Baptist...
Where everybody play they own part like a tooth gap
Dem go tell you love and light, even for black out
If they mess with you, they get one eye like black beans
Delicate MC’s sliced in my delicatessen
I stretch limit to this profession/My voice physically fit, tracks I’m bench-pressing
Rap on a doctrine level, so F. Scott Fitzgerald
I became the better version of the version everybody thought was a better version