Yo

Its Cerebral

We got Grafh and 9.3 on the track

Lemme remind yall what classic is

I got 45s

33s

Yo What you need

Clean that shit off Quick

Ay Stick it in that machine

Right now usin pete rock

Rockin the cartridge green

Im fly like a partridge in a tree So pardon me

But ain't you the one claimin you got sick rhymes

Directed from a sick mind

Fuck off

You wouldn't last a 32 in mine

In fact

I got a 32 in mind

Not the weapon

The verse

At all times

Got my nose to the grind

So step away like you would from a broke ladder

Ain't Nothin else to climb above me

Except vines housin puff adders

I piss on you any chance I get like a weak bladder

So ill puff puff pass on you weak addicts

This is cortex bitch

Ill go toe to toe with your whole damn clique

You hear this track come on you better roll that shit

If you presentin negativity withhold that gift

Im workin overtime in the studio takin all your shifts

So punch it chewie Into hyperdrive

Lets get out this dead end

I speak holy regiment

I am raps reverend

Now Eat of my body

The bread has been leavened

Yo im Ready for heaven like I was 777

This is what it sounds like when a classics produced

Make the mic catch fire

Still never blowin smoke in the booth

I was born with a sweet tooth

Ate too many candy wrappers

Rotted it to the root

Im playin all these lyres like a lute

The way I spit is binary

To them it just dont compute

I open logic and I dope produce

They open FL and then open loops

While they coke abuse

Gettin credits on beats they didn't touch callin it co produced

Meanwhile

Their label fuckin em over a table

With a lack of lube

Their goal is to schalack the fools

Get em greased up

They lack intelligence without a lack of jewels

These laquer fumes got their vision hella skewed

Brought on by control from the suits

They lookin like

Foot by the fruit

Tried to learn to play the game

But they ain't

Got a clue

The skeletons in the ground

Day by day

Are exhumed

This track is

For those

That dont

Play by the rules

I made this for the craft

Not the fools

This is for the craft not the fools

My name Grafh Ho

I ain't tryna wait a moment

As long as you fake and show it

Told my lawyer take the case and close it

The whole world in a snow globe

Im gon break it open

Every time I shake its snowin

And big snowflakes are floatin

And big chrome eight is pokin

Out of my waist and it ain't heroic

If it blows through the back of a brain

And the face explode

Then its a major homer

Over the gate

With the bases loaded

When the bases loaded with bakin soda

I bake and soak it

I take control of the race

Knowin the brakes are broken

I take your soul and let the angels hold it

My jackers take your gold chain and sold it

I take a gold chain coat it in cold rain

Over a whole lake then froze it

Life could change in a dice game

Go shake and throw it

And dont pay me Owe it

I go crazy

No its a movie

Go HBO it

Knowin satan rollin the tapes

Goin to heaven

Now open the gates and show it

Baby

Nine Three

Look I study my intuition

Open eyes yet arrogant though

Oven top smoking roaches

Money schemes in front of your stove

Conflicted by your ways

How you prejudice hoe

How you spend your time drifted

Addicted

Prescriptions you snort

Fish scale have you pale

Looking like a skeleton though

And you a virus yourself

The way your circle done grow

Some motivated

I stay consistent

Committed I show

Speak from my perspective

Never let emotions control

Lack of education

Definition of broke

Ambulance sirens on the scene procedures on the hospital bed

My life in chapters

Every scene common with death

I’ve been cautious of wealth

I’ve been holding my breath

Coffin top close in a box that I rest Hennessy bottles smoking weed at the bottom I’m left

Heavy in this game

Why they left me for my pain

I been on my own

Crying every other day

Just to hide the tears

That run steady through the drain

I need time alone

Makaveli in my tape

Product of that life

That semi when it sprayed

Cocaine in my blood

Fendi on my waist

Hungry like a fat boy

With a belly you can’t tame

Put the earth in my blunt

Let it burn then I puff

I been counting days

In a circle I’m stuck

My mind playing tricks

Like a circus or stunt

Searching for myself

But the purpose ain’t much

Nervous I rush

No person to trust

Purchase my dreams

In my journal I brush

They setting me up

And life ain’t measuring up

I do the dash for the cash

Hit the measuring cup