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Credits & Info

Jan 17, 2012 | 3:56 PM EST
File Info
2.9 MB
3 min 38 sec
4.17 / 5.00

Licensing Terms

Please contact me if you would like to use this in a project. We can discuss the details.

Rated 4.17 / 5 stars
Plays & Downloads:
470 Plays | 25 Downloads
Share Links:
Hip Hop, Rap, R&B - Hip Hop - Modern

Author Comments

Track 6 from Late Introductions by KAML. I produced the beat and did the raps!

His chopper's too lean to be seen in the Vatican
Mind too refined to recline from your puny gun
If he declines to make an audience, know that he
Does it because his boss is a pelican
High as a kite, they're on a road to the Netherlands
Speeding through the ether stream shit wasted elephants
Hell if they don't move slow, hell if they ain't having fun
They are raw flesh and they mesh with the skeleton
Hang tight, this is a video from '21
Incoming bomb pipes ripe with some opium
Write with the white lights, fight for the broker, son
Lay down your poker chips, take face some wonder cum
Angry bitches knee deep in cream weeping "hella fun"
Bleeding out peanut butter, peeing nutty gelatin
Hold to the phone, clutch your lifeline
This is sonny's hometown, down to the lake and the Vatican

Hustler boi
Get your cash right
Hustler boi
Get your mind right
Hustler boi
Get your means right
Hustler boi
Get your scenes right
Hustler boi (x4)

Cash flow, nickel plate, money keep climbing
He talks so rich, now his teeth start shining
Small bunnies try to take the throne through rhyming
Get their wigs split by a snitch, not a tyrant
Haters ain't shit but they think they could waste him
He's a rogue brain, never mind them
Someone pins a gun to his face at his first album signing
He signs them out with one verse about firing
Pussies catch his dick without his hips even trying
Action stars see him on screen and start dying
Success the mess, he's a giant still rising
Fiends bang their heads when he starts freestyling
Copped twenty whips, got a mansion
Now he's running big bench press in a mass media fashion
Space cakes don't take breaks, they make faces shake
At low stakes and great eights, could it be fate, or passion


So the bang bus son's big enough to break guns
His green's so mean when it burns it burns suns
His phone flips out and the Earth comes undone
He spits one verse and the universe runs
Now that's a G, if I ain't never seen one
The man's worst plan could make the dead become "un"
And when he dies, it still be fun
His whole crew will gather his ashes, roll up and get blunt



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