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