Flippin' pies like Famiglia

Rockin' Polo insignia

Wearin' fly kicks to bed chicks

Is like my signature

We're never miniature respect the methods I administer

Right angle pop shots bust perpendicular

Street minister I'm half righteous, half-sinister

Call my gun Mister Cee cause it's the finisher

Bronze bags that hold red and green stripes obscene Nikes and Lo shit

That's all I rock - except the 4/5th

Dip like a mannequin

From seven-deuce and Madison

I really do the shit ya'll niggas do when you imaginin'

Analyze my resume son

There's no comparison

Fine foods, nice shirts, specialty works

Makin' more hand-to-hand sales than toll booth clerks

Writin' raps without quirks, the energy that still lurks

In the city that was known historically for giving merks

Fuck the hand outs, I create my own perks

Peace to niggas buying breakfast 'cause they dishing desserts

Fake smiles mask emptiness, desolate smirks

You usually see them painted on the face of derelict jerks

That being said you won't see none of those next to me

Real talk, I'm a G, keep my team sucker-free

If you go that route, you owe yourself an apology

Run with this jewel: consistency's the best policy

Fuck jacking styles nigga, sample my biography

My life barely started, fam so it doesn't bother me

Plus I'm busy checking breasts

Queens street mamography

Fast forward next scene, hardcore pornography

I love it when they deep throat tubes like an endoscopy

Living life in hypocrisy is an atrocity

What can I do for you depends on what you got for me

I show you how to make a paper plant when you chop a tree

I'm out creating win-win situations

But got toast to settle confrontations, complications

My mind's filled with blueprints and safe combinations

I'm going to the grave with unrepeated conversations

My raps pierce flesh then replenish lacerations

I'll hurt you then heal you

Bag you then deal you

Purchase you back and give you away

Just to let ya'll know ain't no fucking with Mey

Bad bangin' bustin' bitches love to blow on my harmonica

My niggas smoke heavy, lighting candles like it's Hannukah

Minus the yarmulke, the mercury in the thermometer

Couldn't measure the heat my niggas holdin' just to honor the

Code of the street, all of my fleet

Is what I taught ya

If I'm ever under pressure they should never be shook

Snatch a bar out my symphony then heat it up and cook

If you could read between the lines then I could write you a book

Whole-hearted half human with the mind of a crook

Sometime I stare at my picture and go blind when I look

Blackout moves my mind, travel to another time

Free the slaves, hit they masters with a nine of a kind

Then revise the laws that made being black like a crime

Snap out my dream, walk back into reality

It's hard being real in a world that's a fallacy

I nicknamed this rap game felatio galaxy

I been slapping niggas in the face when they challenge me

Shake 'em down, smack 'em up, game 'em for they salary

My pen is positive, it burns more than a calorie

Been painting pictures, I could battle with a gallery

Yo, yo

And a picture's worth a thousand words

I seen a thousand herbs rap about a thousand birds

Frontin' fabricators got clown that embrace 'em

But when they sit down with real Gs they can't face 'em

My heart's racing and my brain's doing sit-ups

Enjoy life, still live trife stacking my biducks

Silk squares over my beard, forever plidush